Fire and Ice
by Macx
Summary: An attempt on Michael's life changes everything.... for both him and Kitt


**Fire and Ice**

by Birgit Staebler

(mac@robyn.rhein-neckar.de)

  
"Do you really think this is such a good idea, Michael?"   
Michael Knight looked through the windshield of the modified black TransAm, studying the old house in the middle of nowhere with a frown. "I don't know, Kitt."   
"Someone contacts you through a mysterious letter, tells you that he wants to meet you here and all you have to say is 'I don't know'," Kitt lamented. "This could be either an elaborate hoax or a trap. You didn't even let the others know we were going here."   
"I got you as back-up, don't I?" Michael asked with a grin.   
The AI grumbled something. At all other times he would have taken that as a compliment, but not today. He had a bad feeling about this, a very bad one.   
"It could be a trap, I know," Michael went on, "but if the information in the letter is real, then we might be able to solve a complicated case. We've been chasing Kerrington for over three months now and this could be the clue we've been waiting for."   
"Maybe," Kitt admitted reluctantly. "But why would someone contact you instead of FLAG?"   
"In a way they contacted FLAG when they contacted me."   
Kitt sighed. There was no reasoning. "Just be careful, Michael. I'll be close by in case something happens."   
Michael smiled again. "Worried about me?"   
Kitt chose not to reply.   
Michael chuckled, got out of the car, patted the warm surface of his partner and walked over to the green painted warehouse standing in the middle of a small desert called Lava Lakes. Though it was early in the afternoon there was no soul in sight anywhere. Kitt's scanners ran over the premises, alert for suspicious movements or concealed men. There was nothing of that kind anywhere. The bleached sand glittered in the late afternoon sun and it was eerily silent.   
This is crazy, he decided. He should contact Devon and tell him what was going on, but this would go against Michael's orders and he couldn't ignore them.   
Kitt and Michael had come a long way in their relationship and it was as close as could be. Kitt had to confess he cared a lot about Michael Knight and that he saw a partner in him no one would be able to easily replace. And it wasn't his programming that told him what to feel. His programming only told him   


that he had to protect this human being, but everything else....   
True, they had had their problems in the past and sometimes still had, mainly because it was in his programming and Michael's nature. Kitt had been programmed to compliment his driver, though they had opposite opinions now and then and Kitt saw no reason to hide his annoyance or irritation when it came to that, keeping his driver on his toes. But that was what made this partnership work. They both trusted each other with their lives and there had been enough close calls for both of them to see that this was something special.   
Kitt sighed softly. Yes, more. Something was happening to his core programming now and then that he couldn't explain. The last time, when he had received massive damage and Michael had been out momentarily, coming around heavily confused and injured, Kitt had been overwhelmed with a dizzy feeling inside his CPU no one could explain. The mechanics had blamed it on the damage, but Kitt knew it was more. It concerned the neuro-implant.   
Michael had been the first to receive the implant, something he didn't even know about. But Kitt had explored these weird new shivers inside him and had come upon a file concerning Michael Long's operations. He had puzzled about some notes and finally discovered that Wilton Knight had given his 'patient' an implant. A neuro link. And then Michael had been introduced to his future car and partner.   
In those notes Kitt had been able to read that old Wilton Knight had been disappointed to see that the implant didn't work. At the time Kitt had been completely new to the concept of working with a human who was hell-bent on breaking every rule to get the woman who had nearly killed him. And he had been too busy establishing himself as a personality to Michael, not just a nifty PC. But now, all those years later, it was suddenly all coming back. He had the information. Had Michael the link?   
The AI shook himself out of his brooding. There was no time for deeper thoughts now. He had a job to do and that was to keep an eye out for any trouble.   
He watched as his driver disappeared inside the green warehouse. He had a bad feeling about all of this. A very bad feeling. Something was bound to go terribly wrong; he just knew it.   
Kitt shivered inside the car body.   
Terribly, terribly wrong.

*

Michael Knight entered the warehouse and looked around. There were several shelves crammed inside, all containing various old stuff he had no clue what it was. Everything was very quiet and only the wind could be heard from a distance. The mysterious letter had told him to meet the contact at the far end, behind the shelves. Michael walked down an aisle, all senses alert for danger. He arrived at the told place without incident. A grimy window gave him a good view of the deserted land all around him.   
"You're Michael Knight?" a voice interrupted his thoughts and he turned, tensing.   
"Yes."   
The man stepping out of the shadow eyed him suspiciously. Michael spread his hands to show he was unarmed.   
"You are the one who sent me the letter?"   
The man nodded. He was of medium height, with brown hair and dark eyes. He was casually dressed and somehow looking non-descript. "Yes. I have some very important information."   
"Concerning James Kerrington. Yes, you wrote that in the letter. Why did you contact me and not the police?"   
The man laughed humorlessly. "The police? They'd arrest me without questions and put me behind bars for life."   
Michael gave him a curious look, but said nothing.   
"Listen, I'm in the explosives business and had an order for something very special from Kerrington. Special explosives for something big." The man looked over his shoulder and scanned the aisles. There was no one. "He came to me for the ammo and explosives."   
"Why are you telling me all of this?"   
The man smiled dryly. "I got cold feet, Mr. Knight. It's getting too dangerous and I'm not getting younger. I want out of the business while I'm still alive and able to."   
"Do you know who is his target?" Michael asked, accepting the explanation.

*

On the other side of the warehouse, out of Kitt's immediate line of sight and shielded against his scanners, a sleek, black vehicle stood. Behind the wheel of the sports car sat a dark-haired man, his face obscured by shadows.   
"He is inside," the second passenger of the car, sitting on the passenger's seat, said.   
"His car?"   
"Unable to see us."   
"Good." The man got out and his shaded eyes sized the warehouse up and down. "Let the revenge begin."

*

The contact, Cantworth, chewed his lower lip. "I want amnesty, okay?"   
"I can't grant you anything," Michael began.   
"Just promise me, okay? A promise is enough."   
Michael frowned. Promise? Something about this was starting to nag him big time. Something was wrong.   
"Why don't we leave and drive back to our headquarters. I promise we'll do everything we can to grant you amnesty."   
The man shook his head.   
"Until we arrest Kerrington, it would the safest for you if you came with me. I can arrange for you to be kept safeguarded until everything is over," Michael added, studying the other closely. Something struck him as very wrong here now.   
Before Cantworth could reply, a shot rang through the warehouse. Cantworth's eyes reflected surprise as he crumbled to the floor, a large red stain on his chest. Another shot chipped some wood out of the shelf just left of Michael. He turned, eyes wide with surprise and a bit of shock. He discovered a man coming down toward him, gun ready.   
"Zane!" he whispered.   
The man smiled darkly. "Hello, Knight. Nice to see you again, even if it isn't for a very long time."   
Bobbie Zane. He had been chosen to assist Bonnie with her work, him being a robotics specialist as well, but after a nasty incident revealing his rather unstable personality his application had been turned down. Zane had nearly lost it then and after destroying half of the inventory in the lab he had run away. No one had heard anything of him since. Zane and Michael had had their encounters while Zane had been at the mansion.   
"What do you want?" he asked, trying to ignore the dead body at his feet.   
"Nothing much. Just your death." Zane smiled coldly. "And then I'll continue. With Miss-Personality, Dr. Bonnie Barstow. And then the next, and the next. And in the end, Professor Devon Miles!"   
Within seconds Michael decided that there was only one way out. The window.   
"Don't even think about it. You wouldn't make it," Bobbie continued conversationally.   
He lifted his gun.   
Michael's eyes saw the trigger finger move and he reacted instinctively, letting himself fall to the side. A shot rang through the silence of the warehouse, followed by a cry of pain.   
Michael fell backward, his back connecting with the shelves. The last thing he consciously heard was the breaking of wood, then there was only cold nothingness.

*

Something was definitely wrong now. Kitt's scanners were suddenly delivering faulty data and it seemed like there was a strange blank spot close to the old building, an area where he couldn't scan a thing. And then he detected a third presence, someone moving closer to where Michael was talking to the contact.   
Everything seemed to happen at once.   
A shot could be heard.   
Kitt's engine came to life with a roar as he decided that his driver was in a lot of trouble.   
"Michael?" he called over the com link.   
He got no reply, only static. Jamming signal! His worry doubled.   
"Michael! Answer me!"   
The next shot was like a whiplash and Kitt accelerated rapidly as he raced for the entrance of the warehouse. Suddenly something intercepted his way and he had to break hard not to collide with it. It was a car, driven by a blonde woman. The black car seemed to stare malevolently at him and the cold stare of the woman added to that effect.   
"Welcome to your death, Kitt," she told him.   
Kitt had no time to react when a laser beam shot out of the front section of the other vehicle, hitting his most vulnerable spot, the scanner, closely followed by a small missile. His engine section was torn open and he gave a shriek of pain as his perceptors overloaded. He had been damaged before, severely as well, but never had it transmitted this pain. And it didn't stop! It wormed its way into the deepest parts of his CPU, enveloping him, repeating the agonizing signals over and over and over. The black TransAm felt like he was going mad. His shrieks grew louder as more of him was turned into scrap and he was unable to move.   
Sonic waves, he realized. They were shaking everything up, allowing him no moment of quiet to get his mind together. Everything around him was breaking apart.   
The woman chuckled slightly. "You made the wrong enemies," she told the by now severely injured AI. "Bobbie has a pretty good idea how to hurt someone, even a computer. He is a professional."   
Kitt tried to move away, but his engine was dead and nothing of his body shell was working properly anymore. The analytical part of his mind told him that this sonic wave field was severely disrupting his functions while the woman took all the time in the world to take him apart. What one missile didn't destroy, another would dent and a third would tear open. He shuddered under another assault, unable to cry anymore.   
"That's enough, Sylvie," a voice suddenly said and she stopped obediently.   
Kitt gasped silently as he saw the dark-haired human who had to be Zane. Zane was dragging the limp form of Michael Knight and when he threw the barely conscious man onto the ground, Kitt could only moan softly.   
"Michael...." he rasped.   
Michael's hand clutched his stomach and his eyes were shadowed with pain. Kitt registered the shocked expression and felt the same shock course through him too. With barely functioning scanners, Kitt made out the wet stain of blood on the shirt, getting larger and larger by the minute. Cold sweat was glistening on Michael's forehead and his breathing sounded labored.   
"I thought you might want to watch your precious driver die before you follow him," Zane said conversationally and nudged Michael with one foot.   
Michael moaned in pain and the same pain coursed through Kitt. It was like back when his partner had been injured and his own circuits had suddenly overloaded, or whatever. But this time it was worse. This time he felt pain, an agony not coming from his own compromised structure and failing integrity, but through something that should by all means not work! The neuro-implant.   
Zane pulled the wounded man up on his feet. Michael gasped, nearly doubling over again. His left side just about the hip felt like on fire and from the all over feel he guessed the bullet had gone through, exiting on the other side. He could also feel the blood he was losing trickle down on his skin, soaking his shirt. He was shoved roughly against the severely damaged form of his partner, his hands touching the warm, twisted metal.   
Kitt in turn felt the soft body of the human connect to his exterior and his perceptor, those still functioning, registered the warm sticky substance now coming in contact with his metal. Blood. Michael's blood. His CPU screamed with emotional upheaval while his voice box only made scratching noises.   
Michael slid down and collapsed into the warm sand. Zane pointed his gun at Michael's head. "Any last wishes?"   
Kitt trembled with rage at his inability to do something and fear for what was about to happen. But suddenly Zane put away the weapon and a malicious smile spread over his features.   
"I guess your last wish is already in your mind, isn't it? You wish you could help your precious driver. Well, bad luck, Number Five. He will die." With that the man turned and walked to his own car. He kissed the blonde woman and they got in, the engine howling into life. Seconds later the car was nothing but a cloud of dust at the horizon.   
Kitt's muddled CPU tried to process what was going on, but he was unable to do more than simply play witness to the scenario around him. Michael, his closest friend and partner, was lying in the desert sands and dying. He had slumped to the ground at Kitt's side, shaking, too pale, losing too much blood.   
"Michael...." he tried to talk after a while, his voice weak, sounding completely off. "Michael, talk to me!" he begged.   
Michael moaned in pain and his eyes slid shut, his breathing transforming into panting.   
"No!" Kitt hissed. "Stay awake! Michael! Don't you dare die on me!"   
Blurry eyes opened and Michael coughed weakly. "Call help," he rasped.   
"I can't. My systems are all down and I'm not sure how long I can still function...." Kitt stopped, acutely aware of his own mortality now.   
"So am I," his driver whispered.   
Kitt felt panic ensue him. The neuro-implant, dead for years, was now blazingly alive with emotions he was not used to, transmitting things he had never pondered feeling before. He knew joy and fear, happiness and loss. He also knew pain, but only the pain from a severed link, a malfunction, not from a shot wound, ripped and torn flesh, blood loss and neural overload, throbs in his side, headache, agony.... a fire burning in his side.....   
Losing hold on consciousness.   
Aware of only the pain.   
"Michael, no!" he protested faintly.   
Michael coughed again and tried to move closer to the door, but the searing pain in his side stopped him. He was like paralyzed.   
"Michael?!" Kitt exclaimed. "Don't!" he protested in desperation when there was no reply. "Please!!"   
His mind was a mess of emotions, memories and darkness pressing in on him. He had never felt so much panic and fear, such horror and agony. Even when Goliath had taken him apart or when the acid bath had nearly done him in, nothing had been this bad. He was dealing with raw human emotions and they were nothing like his own. And their current situation did nothing to help him dealing with it all.   
They were alone.   
Completely on their own.   
His radio links were all down, Michael was unable to repair even the most basic lines for a call and he was slowly bleeding to death.   
He had failed.   
He had been Michael's back-up, he had been responsible for checking the area, and he had failed miserably. Now the results of his failure were blatantly obvious to him. Kitt knew he was able to secure most of his basic programs and continue his existence because even though the damage had been severe, he was alive and had some reserves. But Michael....   
He winced, shivering inside the torn shell that had been a TransAm before. Michael was dying.   
He felt it.   
Acutely.   
Every detail......   
Kitt gave a soft, keening noise inside his CPU.

*

The sun was setting slowly and the shadows grew longer, Kitt's shadow casting over Michael. The driver moved faintly, moaning softly, and his hands twitched. Coming around was a painful process. He didn't want to come back. Coming back meant pain, and he didn't want to feel pain, but consciousness dragged remorselessly at him, pushing him further and further away from the numbing blackness. Blinking, Michael cracked his eyes open, finding it to be difficult. Sand was sticking to his lashes and gluing the lids shut. After a while he finally had one eye open, then the other, squinting into the twilight around him.   
For a second he was confused, not knowing where he was. All he knew was the pain in his side, the fire burning there, a blazing agony, and his throbbing head. Then his memories returned and he closed his eyes again. After another minute of just lying there, motionless and breathing as flatly as possible, Michael opened his eyes once more. Everything was still the same around him. No bad dream then.   
He was in the middle of the desert.   
He had been shot.   
Kitt had been injured.....   
Kitt!   
He tried to speak, but his lips were dry and his tongue felt swollen and like a piece of chalk in his mouth. He croaked Kitt's name, but it was an unintelligible sound without meaning. Still there was a reaction, a low whine, almost inaudible.   
"Kitt?"   
This time he was sure he had managed a word.   
"Mi....chael..... You ...are...hurt...."   
It was even more painful than his injury to hear his partner in this way. Kitt was weak and his voice box was crackling with interference. Michael licked his lips, but his tongue was just as dry. The sun was almost below the horizon now. There was no help in sight.   
Knight tried to pull himself closer to his partner, his mind feverish bright with pain and beginning dehydration. Maybe he could somehow repair some of the damage, get a radio link to Devon or anyone else..... He didn't get far. With a gasp of pain he sank down and curled up on himself, trying to banish the pain. It was impossible.   
"Mi....Michael....."   
He tried to answer, but he found he couldn't talk. He drifted off, blackness swamping over him in great waves.   
A low keening noise drifted over the desert.

* * *

"Have you seen Michael?"   
Bonnie looked up as Devon Miles came down the stairs, a folder in his hands.   
"No. I haven't seen him since he left this morning."   
"It's ten p.m. now and he still hasn't returned. I'm worried."   
Bonnie smiled. "Michael is a grown boy, Devon."   
"And normally he or Kitt leaves a note where they are going," Miles told her. "Even if it's just a beach visit." There was a small hint of distaste there.   
"If he went to the beach, maybe that he was held up by a pretty girl," Bonnie grinned, though she wasn't all to happy about this thought. A tiny voice inside whispered jealous words and she tried to smother it. She wasn't jealous! "He invited her for out for dinner or something, and forgot all about calling us. He'll be home in the morning."   
Devon nodded, but there was a worried frown on his forehead. Something didn't add up here. It wasn't like Michael or Kitt to forget to call when he planned to stay out all night. It was one of their number one rules. FLAG had to know where the driver was.   
"Have you tried contacting Kitt?"   
He nodded again. "No reply."   
Bonnie frowned. Kitt hadn't answered? That was strange. "I could try and get Kitt's signal on the scanner," she volunteered, "though if he went down to the beach somewhere, we'd have to drive around with the Semi because of the range."   
Devon shook his head. "No. We'll wait till morning. If he hasn't called by then...."   
Bonnie understood. A slight worry was creeping into her mind now as well. Why had Michael left without a note as to where he went? Why was Kitt not responding? Had something happened? But if yes, why hadn't Kitt set off the emergency signal?

* * *

Kitt was aware.   
That was all he was.   
He knew he existed, but all his sensors were cut down to a minimum, and he was not really sure what his condition was – except for disastrous. He could only guess from what he couldn't see or hear or feel, and it frightened him. In the back of his CPU was a strange blackness, a cold feeling of death and pain, and it was no edging toward him like a malicious predator, ready to jump and tear him apart.   
Kitt tried to get away from the presence, but it followed him and it was also somewhat familiar.   
Michael!   
He cursed his malfunctioning scanner and as he tried to somehow get his systems to at least give him some idea where his friend was, pain seared through him. Caught off guard because of the flaring agony, Kitt was defenseless against the blackness now swamping him.   
Human pain.   
In every detail.   
Kitt screamed.

*

The night was cool and like a dark blanket, hiding the traces of what had happened from prying eyes. The stars were out, beautiful and cold, some clouds moving over the sky. Nothing moved except for small animals and the occasional dried bush when the wind brushed through it.   
Michael Knight was oblivious to the beauty of the desert at night. He was deeply unconscious. Kitt was valiantly trying to get his systems rerouted or to find a way to send off a signal to anyone, but everything failed.   
He began to drift.   
And then the sun rose.   
And with it the day broke.   
The rising heat warmed the cold sand and also the wrecked car.

* * *

Michael and Kitt hadn't returned by morning and there wasn't a call on the answering machine. Devon had joined Bonnie for breakfast and they ate it in relative silence, each one contemplating what could have happened.   
"Maybe he slept in late wherever he went to sleep last night," Bonnie said and tried a smile. It failed miserably.   
"He would have left at least a number on the answering machine," Devon disagreed. "He knows we need a number to reach him. And he would also have called to tell us he wasn't coming."   
"And Kitt failed to call as well," Bonnie mumbled.   
Silence fell and finally Devon put down his knife. "The Semi will move out in half an hour to search for them," he said, voice decisive. "I want them found – wherever they are."   
Bonnie nodded. This might be extreme, but since not even Kitt could be reached..... it was worrisome. She tried to banish the knot of fear in her stomach, but it refused to go away.

* * *

"Target located."   
The dark-haired man on the driver's seat jerked out of his thoughts and gazed at the screen. A weak blip pulsed in the middle of a green display. "Lava Lakes," he muttered, frowning. "What's he doing there?"   
"Insufficient data."   
One corner of the man's mouth lifted into a smile. "That was a rhetoric question. Let's just have a look."   
A black car rolled out into the desert.

* * *

The Semi had been on the road for three hours now and no trace of either Kitt or Michael had been discovered. Bonnie sat in front of the computer and watched for a signal, anything at all. They had made their way along the whole strip of the beach and then started a search pattern. Still nothing.   
"Dr. Barstow?"   
She pushed a button that activated the com link to the driver. "Yes, Peter?"   
"We are finishing the third pattern. Still nothing in sight."   
"Nothing on the screens either," she sighed. "Keep going."   
"Sure will." He switched off again.   
Bonnie sighed and tried to chase away the deep sitting anxiety. She knew something had happened. Something terrible.

* * *

"The Knight Two Thousand."   
The words were uttered in an icy, totally level voice. The driver made a soft 'hmming' noise.   
"Give me a scan of him."   
There was a second of nothing happening at all, then a display popped up on the screen. "The structure is severely compromised," the voice then said. "I detect faint emissions from a compromised CPU and life signs from a human."   
"Status of the human?"   
"Trauma, blood loss, dehydration. Do you want details?" There was a faint note of sarcasm in the voice.   
"No, thank you. Any trace of the target?"   
"No."   
There was a moment of silence, then the driver said, "Contact FLAG. Give them the coordinates. I'll see what I can do."   
There was silence.   
"Please? I know what I'm doing."   
Another silence. Then, "Affirmative."   
He got out of the car and started walking toward where the Knight Two Thousand sat in the rising morning sun.

* * *

The signal came in on a FLAG channel and it was double-encrypted, but the encryption decoding was attached as a separate file. For someone who had knowledge of FLAG codes it was obvious and Bonnie was such a person. She blinked as she read the three lines, then punched the button for the driver's cabin com link.   
"Peter! Change direction to the following coordinates!" she ordered and gave the driver the location on the screen.   
"Consider us already there, Dr. Barstow," was the reply and she felt the Semi turn and then accelerate.   
Who had sent the message?"   
How did he know?   
Bonnie had no answers to those questions, but she didn't care right now.

* * *

A shadow fell over the gravely injured man. Kitt could barely identify the human and he had no idea how he had suddenly appeared here. He hadn't registered his presence! Maybe his injuries were even worse than he had thought at first. Had he blacked out? It was the only logical explanation.   
Nicholas MacKenzie forced the door to his inside open and Kitt felt him do something under his twisted and mangled dash. There was a brief surge of energy and he felt some circuits concerning his voice box close again. Then the dark-haired man knelt down beside Michael and carefully started to examine the wound. Kitt knew MacKenzie. He and Michael had been working on the Kerrington case together in the beginning, until the trace had been lost again, and Kitt had never really managed to understand the other man, his motivations and his thinking. He was unusual but if you had him as a friend you had someone to count on; you really didn't want to have him as an enemy.   
"Hi, Michael. Long time no see, eh?" Nick asked conversationally.   
"Nick?" Michael coughed, wincing. "How...?"   
"Later. Right now we need to get you out of here."   
MacKenzie put some more pressure on the wound, making Michael wince and moan again. "I'm sorry, my friend, I know it hurts ...."   
"'S okay," he whispered, his awareness fading.   
"Michael?!" Kitt rasped.   
"It's okay, he just lost consciousness," MacKenzie told him, voice calm.   
"I can't feel him! No, I feel too much!" Kitt babbled. "Make it stop!"   
He didn't care for anything right now, not even his own survival. Michael's pain was pressing in on him, the emotions going past every shield Kitt's CPU had. He was suddenly very much aware what it was like to be human, in pain, and dying.....   
"Access sub link 14/7," MacKenzie told him while still treating Michael. "Change the routine to 'F'."   
Kitt, too close to completely losing himself, just did what he was told. He didn't know why and normally he wouldn't have let any stranger tell him what to do, but he was very desperate now. The feelings of coldness and blackness vanished, replaced by a low throb and the awareness that Michael was still alive, though badly injured.   
"How....?" the injured AI wanted to know.   
"Later. Now we have to get Michael and you medical help. An ambulance for him is already on the way and if I remembered Devon's number correctly, your friends should be here any minute."   
Kitt focused on the reassuring voice. Ambulance. Yes. Help......   
"Michael....." he rasped and there was a lot of pain in his voice. "I'm sorry...." Then the car fell silent.   
The ambulance arrived a minute later.

*

He watched.   
When he was satisfied with what was happening and the speed it was performed he switched off the high powered camera, eyes resting on the dark screen a second longer. Finally he started the engine of the car. It slow hum was barely audible on the outside and completely muffled on the inside. The car rolled off his parking spot, leaving only a set of tire marks that would be gone in the next few hours, the wind erasing every trace of his presence here.

* * *

The hospital waiting room was as uncomfortable to Bonnie's eyes as it could possibly be. The creme colored walls and the beige and light brown seats did nothing to soothe her strained nerves. On the contrary. She felt even more agitated. There were some magazines and newspapers on the table, but she hadn't even spared them a closer look. Her mind was fixed on Michael Knight who had been wheeled to emergency surgery right after he had arrived with the ambulance. The paramedics had done everything humanly possible for him. But for Bonnie it looked like it wasn't enough. She knew Michael hadn't woken when the paramedics had started their emergency work on him and he hadn't woken when he had been admitted either.   
When all the immediate hectic and ceaseless questioning was over, she simply stood there, not knowing what to do. Waiting room, was the first thing that hit her mind. But where was the room? A nurse, who seemed to realize what state of mind Bonnie was in, guided her there. The room was mercifully empty of people. Bonnie paced the waiting room, stopping in front of the window overlooking the parking lot and the emergency entrance. An ambulance was just pulling up under the small roof hiding the entrance from prying eyes.   
The image of Michael, pale and covered in blood, formed in the reflective surface. Her stomach wanted to surge. And Kitt was just as bad, though stable. She had checked on him while the Semi had followed the ambulance. Kitt's core unit was in a remarkably good shape and his integrity was not as compromised as first thought. She had connected him to several outside feeds while taking his core unit out and stabilizing him.   
Devon was informed about what had happened and he had promised to send not only several mechanics to take care of the car body shell, but also fly in personally with the Lear. He would be here within the hour.   
She should be with Kitt, she knew.   
She should also stay here because of Michael.   
Bonnie closed her eyes in pain. Kitt was stable, the mechanics would repair the torn body, and she could then link him back to his systems. She was the robotics expert and not the mechanic. But she also wasn't a doctor and being here served no purpose, except to calm her conscience. She was doing something, even if it meant standing uselessly in the waiting room, and it gave her a sense of purpose. A twisted sense.   
Time went by. People came and went in the room, some eyeing her curiously, but never speaking. A couple entered and talked in hushed voices about their child, which had been in a road accident with the a bike. They were called by a nurse after about half an hour of waiting. Then she was alone again. Devon called once on the cell she constantly carried with her to tell her that he was on his way from the airport. Bonnie in turn called Justin, the chief mechanic in charge of Kitt's needs as a car, and they spoke at length about the AI's condition. Justin wasn't happy about the damage, but he said it was nothing that couldn't be fixed 'with a bit of good will and a slab of new paint'. She had to smile at his words. She liked Justin, who had a solid background in car mechanics and had surprised them all at being totally unimpressed by a talking car.   
She had no idea where Nicholas MacKenzie was. The man had simply disappeared and she wasn't too surprised about it. Bonnie had gotten to know him at the time he and Michael had been on the same case, each working for someone else. MacKenzie was someone who gave her the creeps, though he could be the nicest and most likable guy ever if he dropped the cold attitude. But that rarely was the case and she had only once seen him lighten up in their company, and that had been when he had talked with Kitt. Up to this day she had no idea what this conversation had been about.   
After some time Bonnie glanced at the clock on the wall. Five hours of surgery and no word from the doctor. Michael wouldn't die! He *couldn't* die on them just like that! He had no right to! The fear spread like a cancerous web inside of her. Bonnie felt a headache approaching which, combined with her overall emotional state, made her feel sick and beaten.   
Maybe she should go back to the Semi that had been parked not far away. Kitt needed her and she was simply passing her time uselessly here.   
The door opened and she looked up. A blonde, slightly round nurse entered and looked around, her soft brown eyes coming to rest on Bonnie. "Dr. Barstow?" she asked.   
Bonnie nodded. "Yes. Michael ...?" She stopped, unable to ask the question.   
"Mr. Knight has just been taken to the intensive care unit. Dr. Bregman would like to talk to you."   
She followed the blonde nurse to what looked like a reception desk.   
A man in a green surgery coat stood at the desk, writing something down on a pad. When the nurse approached, Bonnie in tow, he looked up. He looked a bit tired.   
"You are Dr. Bonnie Barstow?" he asked as a greeting. She nodded. "Dr. Paul Bregman," the curly-haired doctor introduced himself. "I'm in charge of the E.U."   
"How is Michael?" Bonnie feared the answer to her question.   
"We don't know yet. The damage was extensive and we nearly lost him once. He lost a lot of blood and is in a critical condition right now. We're giving him blood transfusions and he has to be closely monitored for the next 24 to 36 hours. After that time we can tell if he might pull through."   
Bonnie felt like her world was tilting again. Michael's situation was critical. He *might* pull through. God, no ....!   
"Thank you, Dr. Bregman," was all she managed. Then she cleared her throat. "Can I ... can I see him? Just for a minute?"   
"Are you family?" the doctor asked in return, lifting one eyebrow.   
Bonnie shook her head.   
"Does he have any family or relatives to call?" Bregman went on.   
"No, not really...."   
"Then I think we can list you as next of kin for visits, don't you think?" There was a small smile playing around the man's eyes. "You can see him. But only for a minute."   
Bregman motioned Bonnie to follow him and led the brunette woman through a pair of automatic doors with 'Intensive Care Unit' written on them. She was given a green hospital issue coat to wear and a pair of covers for her shoes.   
Bregman stopped in front of a cubicle which contained three beds. A nurse sat behind some kind of monitoring station, her place separated from the intensive care unit by a Plexiglas screen. She looked up as Bregman and Bonnie entered. Bregman stopped at the monitoring station and glanced at the screens.   
"This is Recovery," he explained to her. "We monitor critical patients for the first 24 hours after surgery and then they're moved to other rooms. One minute," he told Bonnie and nodded toward the only occupied bed.   
Bonnie licked her dry lips and stepped into the room. Like the waiting room everything was held in a creamy color and just like in the waiting room the color did nothing for her mood or emotional state of mind. Her eyes fixed on the motionless figure in the only occupied bed. Michael looked completely still and so ... so fragile. His skin appeared washed out, completely white, nearly in color with the sheets. There were several cables attached to his body, monitoring heartbeat and breathing. An IV line fed the unconscious man with a clear liquid.   
Bonnie's hand reached out to touch her friend's lax hand, but she hesitated a second. Finally she let her fingers brush over the back of his hand, then enclosed it, squeezing it softly.   
"Dr. Barstow?" Bregman's voice startled her. "The time is over. You have to go now," the doctor continued.   
She nodded, reluctantly letting go of Michael's hand. Finally she turned around and left.

* * *

"MacKenzie?"   
Bonnie nodded and rubbed her tired eyes. "He called the ambulance, helped Michael until they were there, and disappeared. I have no idea how he knew where to look and how he was able to pull his disappearing act again. I got it all out of Kitt's data banks, though he still refuses to talk more than necessary."   
Devon leaned back in his chair, thoughtful. Nicholas MacKenzie was someone he knew well. He had been there when he had been chosen. He had assisted the process of introducing him to what was expected of him. He had been present when MacKenzie and Karr had met. And even today Devon Miles had no idea who this man really was. Only Wilton Knight had had all the background data and he had never talked. With Wilton, all the secrets had died. The old man had seen something inside the strange CIA operative, something special, and MacKenzie had proven to be extraordinary.   
But it hadn't worked.   
When the ex-agent had come back into his life because of the Kerrington case, Devon had been wary. Michael had picked up on his wariness and had asked questions; questions Devon had been unable to answer. And then MacKenzie had disappeared again – only to mysteriously pop up now.   
Something had happened in the time he had last seen him after the Karr project had failed and the time he had stepped back into the present.   
Miles sighed. He tried to banish the memories of Nicholas MacKenzie and concentrated on his current problem. Bobbie Zane. At the time, when Zane had been on the list of possible new employees, Devon had read the man's file and had seen a highly intelligent and equally talented robotics expert, a fitting addition to the team. He would have been a relief and a help for Bonnie, representing the technician at the base while Bonnie was on the road with the Semi for assignments. As it had been, Zane had shown to be also mentally unstable, something that occurred only under stress, which was mostly self-induced. He practically flipped and became a totally new person.   
Now he had come back, after disappearing from the face of the earth for years. Him and a woman called Sylvie. He would need to check this.   
"You should get some rest, Bonnie," Miles now told the brunette woman sitting half-asleep in the chair opposite the desk.   
Bonnie sighed. "Yes, I know, but every time I think about sleeping I see Michael and Kitt....."   
"You did all there was to do for Kitt. Justin has to do the rest," Devon told her gently. "You need rest. Michael is in the best hands. I'm sure they do everything possible for him."   
Bonnie nodded and rose slowly. She felt dead tired.   
When she had left his office, Devon closed his eyes, feeling tired himself, though it was no physical exhaustion. It was mental stress. After some time he opened his eyes and tried to concentrate on his work.

* * *

It had been two days now.   
Two days since the accident.   
Two days since Michael Knight had almost died. Two days since he had benn admitted to the Intensive Care Unit, comatose, reacting to no outside stimuli.   
Kitt had not spoken a word since he had been towed in. Devon had watched the mechanics dismantle the ripped open and torn body shell and had winced repeatedly as more and more damage had been revealed. This was a deep wound, a very deep one, maybe even affecting his CPU. Bonnie wasn't getting a single reply from Kitt, which was worrisome enough. Kitt was still on-line, but he remained eerily unresponsive.   
The car body he was back to normal. His frame had been repaired, his computer electronics had been replaced and Kitt was once again back inside the car. Justin Turner, the chief mechanic, had spent two sleepless nights working on the reconstruction of the TransAm, talking with Kitt as he and the other mechanics straightened out the frame and replaced destroyed parts. He usually worked with music when he was alone, which was mainly at night, and hummed or sang along. Bonnie knew it had first surprised, then slightly annoyed Kitt, but by now he had accepted that his chief mechanic did not exactly conform to the standards set by the previous one.   
But still, Bonnie was worried. They had been through the repair-and-replacements routine countless times before, and Kitt had been completely restored on several occasions as well. On each occasion he had been back in shape and talkative afterwards, except maybe once when he had been almost disintegrated in the acid, but even then he had shown reactions to outside stimuli.   
Outside stimuli.   
Bonnie frowned. Kitt was like Michael.... unresponsive, comatose..... But that was impossible! A computer could not be comatose! And Kitt showed reactions whenever she needed him to confirm technical data. So he was conscious.   
Part of him was.....   
She sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to chase away a headache that had been lingering since this morning. No amount of aspirin could cure it and it had almost grown into a friend by now. She was trying to work on something to make Kitt immune to the weapon that had done this to him. She knew it had to be a sonic disrupter. The damage told her quite a lot about the device Zane had used. Shielding Kitt from another attack would be a challenge and she knew it would take time. Considering the shape both partners were in, she had the time.   
And then there was the nagging question how Zane had known so much about Kitt that he had immediately aimed for the most vulnerable spot, the scanner. The way he had pulled this off showed that he had background knowledge, solid knowledge, and Bonnie had no idea where he could have gotten it from. Of course, it was in Kitt's files and she was working on getting the scanner more secured, but it was difficult, because whatever she had used in the past to shield the area, it had had the same result: Kitt's scanning abilities had gone down. But Zane had never had any access to his files! He had never come close to the FLAG computer!   
Maybe he hacked into the net, she thought, then shook her head. The FLAGNet was as secure as that of the United States government and every attempt to access it without all the security codes resulted in a dozen silent alarms and a tracer placed on the hacker.   
Then how?   
She had no idea.   
Justin had been in and out at times, once delivering a load of coffee and sandwiches, which Bonnie had gratefully taken, though appetite eluded her. Justin had refused to leave before she had not eaten at least one of the sandwiches, making small talk while she did, downing a cup of coffee with her. Thinking back she realized he had looked as tired as she felt. Now she was alone again and trying to find a way to get Kitt to talk.   
This whole disaster must have affected him much deeper than she had thought. Bonnie had instinctively known that he would be rattled. She had feared he would be frightened. But this was even worse.   
"Anything?"   
The voice jerked her out of her thoughts and she looked up. Devon was standing next to her, face shadowed by worry and exhaustion, but he was as impeccably dressed as always.   
"No," she replied, sounding almost dejected. "He won't talk, not even when I use a laptop. He answers status requests, but every personal question is ignored. Devon, I don't know what's wrong with him!"   
"Trauma," the older man answered softly, looking at the TransAm parked not far away. "He was severely injured and he was unable to help a dying friend."   
Bonnie nodded slowly. She knew that. Michael and Kitt had a close partnership, a friendship as tight as could be, maybe even closer than ever expected of them. There was a bond going beyond a working relationship. They had had a rough start and Bonnie would never have given them a chance, remembering their first meeting, her first impression of the driver who would now operate her 'baby'. She had disliked him almost immediately, and their friendship had grown only slowly. She had been jealous to discover that Kitt was actually developing under Michael's influence, was learning through him and becoming a personality she would never have foreseen. Both had learned and both had developed. And so had Bonnie Barstow. Michael Knight was part of her life now, like Kitt was, and now those two close friends were going through hell.   
Suddenly one of the monitors showed a wildly fluctuating line. Bonnie's attention was immediately drawn there and she watched in alarm as the lines became totally erratic.   
"Something is wrong! His CPU integrity is going down!"   
Alarms went off. Kitt suddenly whimpered, a sound so totally unlike him that it stabbed through the two humans like a knife.   
"No!" he moaned. "Don't!"   
"Kitt?" Bonnie asked while frantically trying to stabilize his dwindling integrity.   
"Don't let him die!" Kitt exclaimed weakly.   
"Kitt!"   
And then everything went back to normal – as if there had been no such incident.   
"What the.... ?!" Bonnie exclaimed. "Kitt?"   
Kitt remained silent.   
Bonnie shook her head and started to run several system checks, but everything came out okay.   
Whatever had happened.... only Kitt knew.

* * *

Michael stared at the ceiling, trying to get a grip on the strange emotions running through him. His body felt numb, the pain-killers keeping the agonizing signals from the wound under control. He was out of immediate danger and would be back at FLAG tomorrow. He wouldn't be back in shape for some time, but he had insisted on at least being home.   
Two weeks had passed since the incident. He had been comatose for three days. He knew he had been conscious once and then fallen asleep again for another twenty-four hours. Finally he had been awake enough to register his visitors and had heard what had happened. They had replaced the blood he had lost with plasma, blood and nurturing fluids. The shot wound had been stitched and he had been told he would have to take it easy, and this time he knew he had to take the advice seriously. He had nearly died once throughout surgery and the doctor had not had high hopes for his survival even afterwards. Now he was out of danger, but still weak.   
Looking at this visitor, someone he didn't think anyone had even seen entering, Michael sighed. "I can't believe this, Nick."   
"You better do, my friend, because it happened." The dark-haired man smiled, his lips twisting into what could be defined as a smile.   
"But after all this time!" Michael protested. "The implant didn't work back then, why now?! Why did no one ever tell me?!"   
That was what bothered him about it the most. They had put something into his head and never told him about it!   
"I have a damned chip in my head! Not that it would make much difference if I knew," he grumbled angrily. "I have enough metal inside anyway, but a chip! When Wilton Knight restored my face I thought he had done enough! Now I'm half a computer!"   
"You know that's not true," MacKenzie corrected him with a faint chuckle.   
Michael simply glared again. "Why do you know so much about this stuff anyway?" he then asked.   
The dark-haired ex-CIA agent sighed. "That's a rather personal thing, Michael."   
"Yes, it is. Because it sits in my head! Spill it, Nick!"   
MacKenzie was silent for a while, looking thoughtful. "You know a lot about me already, more than anyone, I think. Well, my career with the CIA was interrupted briefly when a certain Wilton Knight asked me if I would mind terribly giving up my current rather dangerous occupation and consider his job offer. I considered it, I read all the files, and I said yes."   
Michael gaped. He had never asked if there had been any other candidates. He knew Wilton Knight had asked for him specifically and that they had reconfigured Kitt's inside to fit his rather tall frame.   
"No, I wasn't the one chosen for Kitt, Michael," Nick now told him. "I had been chosen for Karr."   
He gaped again.   
"I thought you knew that Karr was supposed to get a driver."   
"Errr.... I never dug into it that deeply. It was enough to know that Karr was a murderous killer with little respect for other life forms, aside himself," Michael muttered.   
MacKenzie smiled his cold smile again. "A fitting match, don't you think?" He shrugged. "I got the implant as well, you see. And I wanted to know all about it and what it did. I know what this chip in my head does and which routines it is linked to inside the machine you connect to."   
"That's how you knew what to do," Michael nodded, understanding, though there was a silent, nagging feeling inside him that had nothing to do with his neuro-implant. "Did you and Karr ever link?" he asked.   
Nicholas' eyes were cold as ice. "It malfunctioned."   
"But I got it nevertheless."   
"Knight fiddled a bit and managed to improve it," the ex-agent said coolly. Something about this was touching too close to home, Michael could tell. MacKenzie grew colder the more it became personal.   
"And he tried again, and again it didn't work. Up until now." He closed his eyes.   
MacKenzie shrugged. "Be glad you have Kitt connected to the other side."   
Michael sighed. "We can't let this develop!"   
"Who says you can stop it? Wilton never intended it to be stopped."   
"Yes, no, I mean..... Why now?!"   
MacKenzie shrugged. "My best guess is severe trauma and stress. Kitt was heavily damaged at the time, you were injured and you both were under a lot of stress."   
"It isn't the first time!"   
"But I bet it never was this close for both of you." One dark eyebrow rose.   
Yes, it had never been this close. The confrontation with Goliath could be compared with the event from days ago, but at the time only Kitt had been severely damaged while Michael's injuries had been bearable and not near-fatal.   
"How do I deal with it?" he asked softly.   
"Just let it happen. Don't fight it. It will only hurt you and Kitt," MacKenzie advised him. His voice grew more gentle. "Call yourself lucky it is Kitt. I met him only once, but he is a partner you can rely on. He is there for you, Michael, not out to hurt you with his responses through the link."   
Michael met the other's eyes and saw a shadow in them he knew from past assignments with Nicholas MacKenzie. Nightmarish memories. What had happened to Nick? Was it something connected to the neuro-implant and the failed link to Karr? Something else? Had he linked or not? And if he had....? He wanted to know so much about what had happened in the past, but he would never get a chance if he pushed now. Michael closed his eyes with a sigh. He felt a low, throbbing impulse in the back of his neck. Kitt.   
"This won't work," he mumbled tiredly.   
"The two of you are much more of a team now than Karr and I would ever have been. Karr had his sense of self-preservation, his arrogance, his ego....."   
"And here you were, a human, a trained agent...." Michael continued with a fine smile.   
"A trained assassin," MacKenzie added. "A spy, a human target, whatever the government wanted me to be. Karr and I had too many similarities to work efficiently on this problem. It was to confront one's self in machine form."   
Again. There it was again. Michael could hear it like a hidden hint toward a deep, dark secret. Something had happened and Nicholas was not telling him. Michael only sighed again.   
"Michael, Kitt was programmed for you. He is a part of you already and you both know it. You can go through with it and do it better."   
Michael looked at the other man. "Well, we have to," he said after some time.   
Nicholas nodded. "Yes, there is no way around it now." He looked around the room. "I guess it is time for me to go now, Michael."   
"Nick, wait!" Michael called, trying to lever himself up and bit his lower lip in pain, sinking back. "Where can I find you?"   
MacKenzie smiled coldly. "You know the game." With that he left.   
Michael Knight sighed and closed his eyes. Yes, he knew the game. MacKenzie would pop up again one day, but they wouldn't find either him anywhere if they searched for him. He worked solo, he did rogue missions, his existence was a secret to many and Michael wasn't even sure Nicholas MacKenzie was his real name. A shadow in a shadowy world, not so much unlike himself.   
With these thoughts he drifted off in an exhausted sleep.

*

Nicholas walked down the hospital corridor, as always moving almost instinctively out of the way of those who might ask questions about why he was here, who he was, what his business was. He was like a shadow, never to be seen for real. He left the hospital and walked for some time, several blocks straight on and then to the right, until he arrived in a small side street. This place was way off from the hospital, somewhere no one would park his car if he wanted to pay a visit. He steered toward a black sports car of unknown brand. This was a special construction, nothing you could buy anywhere and nothing that was easily identified. The papers told everyone asking that it was a 'Stealth'. A friend had constructed the body shell for him and someone else had modified the interior to his requests and wishes.   
He opened the door and sank down on the anthracite colored seats. A familiar feeling coursed through him and he closed his eyes, relaxing completely this one instant, and the feeling increased. If he were a machine, what was happening now would best be described as a link-up. But he wasn't a machine, only a tiny part of him was, and that part was connecting to a much bigger component, an artificial intelligence.   
"Did you tell him?" a voice asked into the silence. It was a cold but not completely inhuman voice, with an edge to it.   
"As much as he needed to know," Nick answered, eyes still closed.   
"He doesn't know that it worked the first time?"   
A humorless smile appeared on his lips. "Why worry him? And FLAG. Let the dead rest."   
There was a brief silence. Then the voice said, "You received a call from Marshall. He wants a report on the Kerrington assignment."   
MacKenzie opened his eyes. Shadows danced inside the icy blue depths. He didn't feel like going on a case, not with his memories dragging him back years to an offer he should never have taken. He didn't really regret what had been done, what had been decided; not really. But sometimes there was a small doubt concerning his survival and his future. He banished those thoughts.   
Nothing had changed through it. He was still the same man, had still the same job, though slightly modified, and his future was as vague and unknown as it had always been.   
"Let's go," he finally said and ignited the engine.   
The Stealth moved out.

* * *

Bobbie Zane watched the house with high-powered binoculars, smiling to himself. Knight had not died, bad luck; but that only meant he would experience all the terror and fear of dying once again when Zane was ready to strike at FLAG once more. And he was nearly ready.   
Pocketing the binoculars he slipped back through the forest and arrived at the sleek sports car a few minutes later. He got in and smiled at the woman on the passenger seat.   
"Let's get ready."   
Her answering smile was just as cold and brutal as his.

* * *

It was very quiet at the mansion. Michael had come home from the hospital this morning and was asleep in his room right now, totally exhausted. The mechanics had closed the doors for the night and the lab lights were out except for one. But even though Bonnie's personal lab was brightly lit up, the only occupant was fast asleep. Bonnie had slumped over her desk, the computer screen still on, a cold mug of coffee at her side. Devon was in his study, catching up on paperwork and trying not to think   
The shadowy figure snuck through the lab door and walked straight towards the array of diagnostic computers and electronic repair components. The intruder looked around but saw no one, then walked over to the consoles. He fetched a tool and loosened some screws. Taking the lid away from the control panel he peered inside and then disconnected two circuits. Screwing the lid shut again the figure left the lab, closing the door.   
No alarm had been set off.

* * *

Morning broke slowly, the sky covered with lead-colored clouds and it looked like rain. A mild wind was blowing already and the weather report wasn't raising any hopes for sunshine.   
Kitt was in his usual spot in the garage. Light reflected of the freshly polished, black surface and he looked like new. And in a way he was. Still, the AI that was Kitt was shivering uncontrollably and nothing and no one could help him. Michael was back at the mansion, he was out of danger, but he was still seriously injured. He had not been allowed more than a few minutes out of bed and the FLAG doctor was making sure he stayed put. Michael didn't really have the strength to protest.   
They had not spoken more than a few words and Kitt, though completely repaired, was still in pain.   
Michael's pain.   
The neuro-implant.   
Kitt moaned softly. Why now? Why at all?! No one knew about it yet, but he knew Bonnie was by now getting suspicious. He wasn't talking to her and if he did out of necessity, it was in brief, crisp sentences. He didn't want her to catch up on his pain. She most likely had already and he didn't even know how to react to it all. He was at a total loss.... something he was not familiar with.   
"Kitt?"   
Kitt nearly screamed in surprise when he heard Michael's voice, but his reply to the com link call was his usual, calm, "Yes, Michael?"   
"We need to talk."   
He sounded so exhausted and weak! And Kitt knew every single injury his partner had sustained. He trembled. Michael had been hurt before. He had been shot and nearly bled to death on their first assignment, for crying out loud! Of course he had cared, but he had been programmed to care! Nothing more, nothing less. There had been countless injuries on countless cases. Shot wounds, bruises, gashes, stab wounds, poison, broken bones, everything. Kitt had been worried, he had cared, but he had never *felt* Michael's pain. He was a computer. He was not entitled to human emotions like this!   
And he had never yearned for Michael to be close to him, to be there, to talk with him, reassure him that everything was okay, like this either. Michael had been there for him when the acid bath had nearly destroyed him; and after Goliath; after many close encounters. Kitt knew about his own mortality, he knew about human mortality, but they were two different things and never had they mixed into one.   
He relied on his driver and partner; his best friend. It was an illogical feeling.... Kitt stopped. Feelings were by nature illogical because they lagged hard facts. Data. He relied on Bonnie because she was responsible for his physical well-being. But Michael.... he meant his mental well-being, his stability. There was nothing worse than losing his driver. It had happened once and Kitt hated to think of the day they had introduced a replacement driver for him.   
"I don't think there is anything to talk about," he finally said stiffly.   
"Kitt, please," Michael sighed. "Something happened and we need to talk about it."   
"You should rest, Michael," Kitt replied coolly and discontinued the link.   


In his room, Michael looked at the dead link and let his head sink back onto his pillow. He had somehow expected this, but Kitt was reacting more defensive than he had ever seen him. Okay, so he had to go and talk to him in person. But not this morning. The night had been interrupted quite often, mostly by stings from his wound and he still refused to be drugged twenty-four hours a day, so he had not taken any medication. In the early morning hours he had finally given in, surrendered, and after a laborious trip to the bathroom, Michael had swallowed two of the prescribed pills. He was too tired to move now and Kitt would most likely simply overrun him with arguments he wouldn't be able to disarm.   
His mind grew fuzzy and thoughts happened in slow motion. He knew the effect; he had been a hospital patient often enough to know all kinds of pain drugs. When he had a clear head he would talk to Kitt.   
With that he drifted off into a light sleep.

* * *

It was an impressive building, a former manor. It had seen a lot in its time, wars and revolutions, and had changed owners many times. It had briefly been turned into an official building, housing several offices at once, but throughout the years most of the departments had moved into more modern environments, into the skyscrapers erected everywhere. The house had been empty for a long time, over two decades, until it had been bought by a wealthy investor, an Englishman called Sir Peter St. John-Smythe. He had restored the house to its former beauty and now it sat anonymously in the district of the city, no one asking what it was used for. Hidden cameras had an eye on every possible angle of the area around the house and were even placed further down the road.   
Inside, it looked vastly different from what people would have expected. The almost empty entrance hall stretched up to the second floor, with a gallery running around the second floor. There were no decorations on the bare stone walls and a large staircase, which split into two after a few steps, was opposite the entrance. No one ever used the front entrance and no mail was delivered here anyway. The neighbors took it that the Englishman was simply keeping the house for investment purposes and had employed a caretaker who did some necessities once in a while. He was the only one they ever saw.   
If anyone had had access to the building, they would have been surprised what else it contained. The basement had been completely redecorated and was now a parking garage complete with a lab and studio. Computers lined the walls, as well as printers, scanners, a copy machine, a satellite uplink and a ton more electronic stuff. The second floor was more of a living space, though sparsely furnished and seemingly unused most of the time. Currently a man was sitting in cross-legged on the couch that stood in the middle of the computer equipment, a laptop on his knees. It wasn't the normal run-of-the-mill computer; like most of the equipment around here is was crafted for one person after his rather personal wishes and requirements.   
Nicholas MacKenzie typed several commands into the turbo-powered Pentium and watched the satellite uplink as it established itself, encoding his transmissions in a very unusual encryption scheme, starting the prime factorial code no Cray in the world would even come close to cracking. Then he had access to whatever he wanted. No normal surfer would ever stumble into this area of the Internet. The access numbers to many of the boards, ftp, html and http sites were far from common knowledge. He sped along the information links until he arrived where he had wanted to.   
MacKenzie began downloading the files he had had to transfer to Marshall first, then turned to his own business. Bobbie Zane. Zane was not really one of his cases or even remotely connected to one, but he had made an enemy in MacKenzie when he had attacked Michael Knight. MacKenzie had few people he considered friends and even fewer he would protect or stand up for. In the short time he knew Knight, he had come pretty close to the second section. And there was the fact that Zane had used Kerrington's name to lure Knight into this trap.   
He worked for about ten minutes, then nodded and downloaded the information. Next he picked up a CD lying next to him on the couch. Before going off-line he had one more task: enter the FLAG computer and dump some information there. Finally he shut down the laptop and leaned back, closing his eyes. When he opened them after a minute, his eyes wandered over to the black Stealth sitting like a black hole in the middle of the room. For a visitor – which he rarely got – it would have been strange to see a car parked on the second floor, but for this team it was normal.   
"You don't like it," Nicholas now stated quietly.   
"If you know it, I don't have to answer," was the flat reply.   
One corner of his mouth lifted into a smile. "You just did."   
He sat the laptop aside and lay back on the couch, closing his eyes, though he was far from sleeping. His mind was as always busy running several cases, but the one most prominently on his mind was Kerrington. But Zane and what he had triggered with Knight and Kitt kept interfering. Nicholas was not used to being distracted like this. He had been trained to focus, never to let his mind wander, and it let him appear cold and almost machine-like to others. MacKenzie called it efficiency.   
Sometimes he cursed his training because it denied him things others took for granted, all the little moments of happiness, of relaxation and trust in someone else. He had never trusted anyone, not even Wilton Knight when he had gotten to know the old man, and he generally considered others to be targets before seeing a friend.   
Nicholas MacKenzie had been a member of an elite force, a team of highly professional, highly trained covert agents, who would be send on those missions the joined governments would immediately deny any knowledge of. Those missions, who were politically sensitive or too dangerous for anyone else to be allowed to work them. He had seen his share of horror and in the end it had made him more inhuman than the training had already made him.   
And he had left.   
Wilton Knight's offer had been like a salvation, only to launch a hellish ride into the deepest pits. Had he known that this crazy scheme would work, and what it really meant, he would have gone back. But now it was too late. Reading about the functions of the chip had been one thing, but experiencing it life had been vastly different.   
Why had he hidden it?   
Why had he never told the old man that his chip worked, though delayed?   
Nicholas didn't know. He had never found an answer and maybe he never would. He and Karr had closed the link the day Karr had been shut down. It had been like a blow between the eyes with a sledge hammer. Nicholas had felt all functions of the AI go down, had felt him struggle for life, for awareness, had felt the hatred. And then there had been nothing at all.   
Until he had come back – only to die again, giving his intended driver a Dolby surround performance right through the link. Nicholas had tried to get to Karr when he had woken after so many years, but he had been on a case and unable to be there. The second time he had been an hour too late, finding nothing but debris; and among the debris signs of life.   
That had been how it had ended. That was how it had started.   
MacKenzie had access to the latest in technology without stealing it; he simply 'acquired' the files and gave them to those he knew owed him a favor or would never ask stupid questions if the payment was right. The Stealth had been born. Karr had been reborn.   
And his life had taken a vastly different turn.   
Now someone else was about to embark on a similar route.   
Michael Knight had an active chip in his head. Nicholas knew all there was to know about this chip, about the tiny device with its countless wires attached to it. He remembered the preparation, how he had been wheeled into surgery, and how he had woken, head bandaged, feeling no different than before.   
Until.....   
He sighed deeply. Yes, until then....   
Chasing those thoughts away he concentrated on the problem of the present, not what had happened in the past.   
Kitt was connecting to Michael Knight even now. Neither had an idea what they were getting into and both were experimenting. Nicholas hadn't known either at the time, but he had had the trained mind to accept and fight the new mind now sharing part of his. Michael.... Michael was just Michael, though he had an advantage in having Kitt as a partner.   
And then there was the weapon Zane had used. It reminded him of something. Nicholas opened his eyes and sat up.   
"Did you scan Kitt?" he asked without preamble.   
"Yes."   
"What hit him?" Nicholas wanted to know, blue eyes fixed on the Stealth.   
"Sonic disrupter field projected right into his systems. The laser opened the way, as did the missiles, distracting his internal security so the sonic disrupters could start their work," was the coldly clinical reply.   
MacKenzie chewed his lower lip. "Sonic disrupter. Kerrington...... He sold those things." He looked at the Stealth. Something prickled down his neck and Nicholas frowned. "I know there is no connection between those two, but Zane used Kerrington's name and one of his weapons."   
"We are not working on a case called 'Zane'."   
He smiled again. "No, but maybe we will. Soon."   
"You are not getting paid for it."   
A chuckle followed the statement. "Money isn't everything." The chuckle died. "And I take this slightly personal." He rose and walked over to the Stealth. "See if you can find something on the sonic disrupter fields."   
"And what will you do?" the cold voice asked.   
"Get a shower."   
With that MacKenzie went up the stairs to the living area, leaving the black vehicle alone. He felt the link-up even before it was complete. He was never alone, he knew. When he was out of sight, his partner would immediately close the connection and use the link. Nicholas was used to it. It had never been any other way.

* * *

Kitt trembled badly and he knew it would get even worse before he could hope for it to get better.   
Nononooooo!   
He had to stop it -- somehow -- some way.... Maybe it wasn't too late, maybe he could change it......   
A figure stepped into the garage and he recognized Bonnie. No, not now! She would run tests and find out! Why couldn't she leave him alone? He was back in shape again, his routines were running flawlessly, so why was she here? He wished he could make himself invisible.   
"Hello, Kitt," she greeted him as she walked over to her workstation.   
"Hello, Bonnie." Pleased, Kitt noticed how calm and normal his voice sounded. And he was even more pleased and relieved when he noticed that Bonnie wasn't about to start checking on him. She was going through the daily mail files in the FLAGNet mail box.   
"How are you?" she asked as she let the program download the incoming mail onto her laptop hard drive.   
"I am fine, Bonnie. Thank you," he answered politely.   
The look she gave him told Kitt she didn't believe him, but thankfully she didn't dig. A chime announced the mail was now downloaded and she smiled at him.   
"I'll be back this afternoon for some checks."   
Kitt watched her go, anxiety rising inside of him. He didn't want any more checks! He wanted to be left alone! He wanted everything back to normal, back like it had been before.... before..... before Michael had almost died because of him.   
Guilt courses through him and he shuddered. His fault..... All alone..... If Michael had died..... he didn't even want to think about it. It was too horrifying a vision.   
But it stayed.   
Forever lodged in his mind.   
A reminder.

*

Michael was in the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of coffee. A tingle passed down his spine and he hesitated, but when it didn't come, back he shrugged and continued stirring the hot liquid. Walking over to the kitchen table he put the mug down and looked around for the newspaper. He wanted to catch up on the events.   
Suddenly the tingle came back, stronger this time. His eyes flew open and his fingers clenched around the paper.   
"Kitt?" he exclaimed, startling himself with it as well.   
The tingle increased into an itch and he staggered to his feet, his head starting to throb in an almost painful way. The neuro implant was coming alive with strange sensations and his mind was trying to compensate random energy signals coming in. Part of what he was receiving was confusion, fear and panic   
Michael slid down the wall and onto the floor, tears streaming down his face as emotions that were not his own still assaulted him.   
What is happening to me?   
Stop it! Now!   
"Kitt!" he croaked. "Stop .... please....."   
Confusion hit him heavily. He knew he was personally confused as well, and very much afraid, but what he felt weren't human emotions. They were strange, but familiar. Alien, but still part of him. He moaned and clutched his head, doubling over. Guilt pressed in on him now and he trembled uncontrollably. Kitt was projecting so badly it was as if it was Michael who was going through it all, not his partner.   
And as quickly as it had all come, it disappeared again. Michael remained on the floor, breathing hard, the shot wound stinging, his head throbbing painfully. He felt weak and exhausted, unable to move, and he decided to simply sit there for a while longer.   
They had to find a solution for this.   
Fast.   
Or it might kill them both.

* * *

"Devon?"   
The gray-haired man looked up and discovered Bonnie standing in the doorway to his study. "Yes?" he asked.   
"I found something in the mail today. Addressed to you." Bonnie walked up to him, put the laptop she had carried with her down on the desk top, and opened it. "I went through our data files and there is was." She keyed in a command and a 'Mail Incoming' sign popped up. "Someone dumped a whole file of data right in our lap and I have no idea how he breached the security around the FLAGNet!"   
She was flustered and very much disturbed by this, mainly because it told her that maybe Zane *had* accessed their data files and pulled out more than just Kitt's vulnerable spot. Once inside, the whole world of FLAG was open to the user! He could download whatever he wanted and no one would stop him, no guard dog program would activate.   
Devon frowned. "Addressed to me? What kind of file?" he wanted to know, already having a suspicion who might have done the hacking.   
"Information about Bobbie Zane, what he did in the last years, and a zip-file about something called a 'neuro implant'." She raised an eyebrow. From Devon's rather calm approach to this breach of security she suspected he knew the hacker.   
Now he sat back. "Neuro implant?" he breathed.   
She nodded and accessed that particular part. Devon seemed to pale.   
"No! Impossible!" he finally said.   
"Devon, what is a neuro implant?"   
He inhaled deeply. "Something that never worked. Where is Michael?" he asked.   
"Probably with Kitt as he is most of the time," Bonnie answered, slightly confused. "Why .... what is wrong?"   
Devon rose. "I think I need to talk to him."   
"Devon! What....?" she protested.   
"Not now, Bonnie. I need to confirm something first." With that he left.   
Bonnie was alone in the study and shook her head. What was going on here?

* * *

Michael was not very steady on his legs, at least when it came to longer stretches. And walking into the garage was a very long stretch, but it was the only way to talk to Kitt, who had refused every com link call since the first and last talk they had had. He walked over to the black vehicle and stopped at the door, closing his eyes to fight down the pain he was feeling. His left hand was resting on the cool metal and maybe it was his imagination, but he thought he felt a tremor pass through the powerful frame.   
"You should be in bed," Kitt said with the voice he usually used when lecturing his driver.   
"I'm not, so sue me," Michael managed. "We need to talk."   
"I think we did that some time ago."   
"No, I talked and you cut off the link, Kitt. That is not what I call talking," Michael told him in a low voice. Finally his wound stopped throbbing so badly. "Please, open the door."   
A wave of fear hit him and he swallowed hard. Kitt was afraid. But of what? Of him? Of what had happened? Of the link? Hell, *he* was afraid of it, so what was Kitt feeling, someone whose only encounter with human emotions at close proximity was what he experienced inside a car body.   
"Kitt, please," he asked.   
"Michael...."   
It was a whimper of desperation and pain. Michael groaned and screwed his eyes shut at a sharp pain running through him. He steadied himself against the car, feeling like the whole world was tilting sideways.   
No!   
The single exclamation, not even a word in the very sense of it, just a wild emotion suddenly in his mind, seemed to lance through him, cutting his mind apart. He gasped, his knees giving way and he fell to the ground. The very floor seemed to grow all wavy and twist around him. His mind buzzed with something akin to whimpers.   
"Michael?!"   
Kitt's projections changed into worry and fear for his driver, just as overwhelming and strong, but no longer as painful.   
"I hurt you!" he gasped faintly. "No! Make it stop! I don't want it!"   
Michael heard a high-pitched whine and tried to fight the panic in his head. It wasn't his own emotion, it was only Kitt's.   
"Kitt!" he choked out, voice rough.   
The AI trembled. "Please....." he begged.   
"Open the door," Michael managed, pulling himself up with sheer willpower.   
"No!" The engine fired up and Kitt's tires squealed. He sat back several feet, rumbling nervously. "Stay away!"   
Michael gritted his teeth, concentrating on his partner. "Kitt, please....."   
"Stay away!" he screamed in panic. "I am hurting you!"   
Michael gasped, staggering again under the assault of terror and panic, still he kept on following Kitt who had retreated back out of the open doors.   
"You are not hurting me!" he called desperately. "You only hurt me if you keep this up!"   
"My fault!" the AI cried.   
Michael stopped, trying to control his shaking body. "Your fault?" he echoed. "What is your fault?"   
When Kitt didn't answer, simply sending out ceaseless energy surges that were slowly driving his partner mad, Michael tried to come up with an answer. And then it hit him.   
"No!" He shook his head, almost losing his balance because the world around him started to swim. "This isn't your fault, Pal! Zane shot me, not you!"   
"Couldn't help," Kitt moaned.   
"No, you couldn't. Of course you couldn't! You are not a human being!" The moment it was out, Michael could have slapped himself.   
Kitt's wheels dug into the gravel and he moved back again. Desperation and hurt were the next wave Michael had to battle and it was almost too much this time.   
"Sorry," he called. "Oh, Kitt, I'm sorry! I didn't mean it like that!"   
The car stopped, engine humming nervously.   
"You are my best friend, my partner.... but there are limits," he whispered, approaching the modified TransAm again. He didn't feel all that steady on his legs anymore and all he could do from totally losing himself to the dizziness in his head was concentrating on his partner.   
"But I'm not human," Kitt added, voice trembling.   
"You are human, Kitt. For me you are even more." Michael had almost closed the distance and he willed his staggering feet not to let him down now. Just a few more steps.   
"You could have died and it would have been my fault!" Kitt now cried, voice breaking.   
"Nothing of this is your fault. Remember when we met? The very first time? I was shot as well and you didn't blame yourself."   
The scanner stopped several times, as if Kitt was having a hard time keeping it running, and there was a definite flicker in it.   
"It was different."   
"How?"   
Kitt's tires twitched, but he didn't move. Gravel flew up in the air and he whimpered softly. "Michael....." he pleaded.   
Only three more steps.   
Michael approached as if he was facing a frightened animal or child. He had his hands outstretched, walking slowly, one step at a time. "It wasn't different," he continued, voice almost hypnotic. "It was the same."   
"No...." came the moan of denial.   
"Yes. And we managed. You didn't know me back then and neither did I know you, but we managed. You never blamed yourself then. And it was the same on every other occasion. Most of the times if was my own risky approach to a situation or foolhardiness on my part, but it was never your fault, Pal. Never. How can it be? You are my conscience, my little voice of doubt. You point out the risks."   
"Could...could have stopped you," Kitt protested.   
"How? By locking me in? Kitt, I can override your decisions! You can only argue, but you can't make me stop for real, and you know it."   
The scanner laboriously went from left to right, trembling more. Kitt was emotionally torn and Michael was sitting in the front row, his head pounding with the energy.   
"Michael...." It was a cry for help and he knew it.   
"Kitt, I'm here. Trust me."   
Kitt made an unintelligible sound between a moan and whimper, almost a keening noise.   
"Let me in, please?" Michael begged.   
He came closer and Kitt twitched again, but unable to put up much of a fight. He wanted to run, to hide, to get away from the source of his pain, but Michael wasn't really that source. He was his friend, his partner..... someone he trusted implicitly. The door clicked open and the injured man grabbed the frame, easing himself onto the seat. Kitt told himself that this 'obedience' was his programming, that he couldn't act against Michael's orders, but then there was his own feeling of yearning. He wanted to talk to his driver, wanted him near.....   
Michael leaned back, closing his eyes. It took him a while to calm down completely. Kitt's presence inside his head was like a background mutter, a hum, sometimes growing louder, more insistent, then dying down again. He could distinguish a few emotional responses, mainly because they were so strong.   
"Kitt, about what happened...." he said after a while.   
"Nothing happened," the AI interrupted him quickly. He tried to ignore the feeling of content completeness as Michael made himself as comfortable as possible in his seats.   
Michael opened his eyes and looked at the dash. He had heard the tremor in his voice just now and he knew Kitt was afraid. And so was he.   
"It happened. We have to come to terms with it," he said softly.   
"Nothing happened!" Kitt repeated with more force and more panic.   
"Kitt...."   
"No!"   
Michael inhaled deeply. "You have to accept it," he whispered after a while. "The neuro-implant can't be removed and this link.... it happened. We can't undo it."   
Kitt shuddered and an involuntary moan escaped his voice box. "Michael..... this can't be..... we can't..... it's...."   
"Confusing? Frightening? New? Scary?" Michael asked tiredly. "It's all of this for me. You are here, in my mind, able to project and receive. It's alien and scary."   
Kitt made a helpless noise.   
"I know," his driver said gently. "I know only too well."   
"I can feel it," Kitt moaned. "The pain.... When you were shot.... And now...."   
Michael brushed his hands over the dashboard and steering wheel, a gesture he had now and then done before. He felt Kitt's distress and it was the only way he could think of giving him a feeling of security. Kitt was his friend.... someone who understood him better than he himself sometimes. He cared about this artificial intelligence and he knew how heavily he had been hit when Kitt had almost ceased functioning in the past.   
"Kitt, we will work this out." And maybe we have help, he thought desperately. Maybe Nick could give them a few helping hints. He seemed to know a lot about this, for whatever reason. Nicholas' past was very shadowy and thought Michael knew a few things about the former CIA agent, there were large chunks missing, hidden on purpose.   
Michael leaned back and tried to breathe not too deeply. His injury throbbed again and he felt so tired and exhausted, but at the time reluctant to leave his partner alone.   
"You should rest," Kitt said, interrupting his train of thoughts, voicing what Michael had been thinking.   
"I am," he mumbled.   
"I am talking about a real bed, Michael," the AI added with just enough of his old voice to make Michael smile. But it was also a dismissal. He heard it and he knew Kitt was once again through talking.   
"Okay, I recognize a kick when I hear it."   
Kitt seemed to smile. He had never been able to really tell before, at least not when he didn't let his smile be accompanied by some witty comeback, but now..... The link made it possible for Michael to recognize it. He felt it.   
"But we will talk about this, Kitt," Michael promised.   
"Good night, Michael," the AI said softly before his driver opened the door and slowly got out.

*

Michael was almost back to his room when he ran into Devon. The older man was looking serious, even more serious than most of the time, and his eyes held an expression Michael didn't like.   
He knows, shot through him. He knows!   
Michael had wanted to keep this between him and Kitt. He didn't want Devon or Bonnie to know about the functioning neuro implant until he and Kitt had worked something out. He had no idea what this 'something' might be, but he had made up his mind not to bother anyone with this, most of all the one person who *had* to know that he had the implant. Devon had been with FLAG right from the start; he had been there when Karr had been assigned to Nicholas; he had to know about the chip and wiring inside him.   
"We need to talk, my boy," Miles now said.   
Michael shook his head. "Not now, Devon." He wouldn't be able to take it, not after his talk with Kitt. He felt ready to keel over dead and his head was throbbing slightly.   
"Now," Devon intoned. There was an edge to his voice Michael had rarely heard before.   
Devon gently pushed him into the room Michael occupied when he was actually at the mansion. Michael eased himself onto the bed and leaned back comfortably against the headrest, one leg on the mattress, the other hanging over the edge.   
"Nicholas MacKenzie sent us a little file," Devon said, voice controlled, eyes shadowed.   
"He hacked FLAGNet?" Michael had to grin. Old devil! MacKenzie had a lot of talents....   
"Yes, the net. He dumped two files, one about Bobbie Zane and one about something called 'neuro implant'." Devon was watching him closely and Michael put on is poker face.   
Nick, I'm going to kill you! he cursed inside. Why? Why did you do it?   
Michael knew the answer. Nicholas wanted them to have help and what better help than their friends? Michael knew he was right, but he wasn't ready for this! It was still too new. Something in the back of his neck sent out warmth and he was hard pressed not respond to it.   
Kitt, please..... he begged silently.   
Another shiver was the answer.   
"What information about Zane?" he now asked, voice steady.   
Devon sighed. "That's not important now. What is important is the second file."   
"About this implant thing?"   
His older friend nodded, never leaving his eyes off Michael. "The implant thing. I think you know more about this than you want me to know, Michael. Why are you trying to keep this a secret?"   
Michael swallowed, the pressure in his head and neck increasing. It was not painful, just like feeling the distress and confusion of someone else, as well as himself. Kitt was afraid of this new link, he was terrified, but also infinitely curious. He trusted Michael, which was one reason why he was not really trying to block everything. That was why he was now trying to get through to his partner.   
"Devon, this is something personal, okay?"   
"No, it isn't! It's a miracle!"   
"I wouldn't call a chip in my head a miracle!" Michael shot back angrily. "You never even told me about it! You put something in my head and simply forgot to tell me, right?"   
"My boy, it never worked...."   
"It does now!"   
"Yes, and I'm surprised."   
"Surprised, right! What was your plan anyway? Link man and machine so Kitt can control me? Read my mind? So you can always keep track of me?" All the anger poured out of him now and the injury stung again. Michael had thought about this whole mess over and over again. Why had they done it? For what purpose?!   
Devon sighed deeply and rubbed his forehead. "No, it was never planned as a control device. Wilton wanted the driver and the car to become one – in a sense of a word. But not so we could control. The chip was supposed to give the two of you a sense of team spirit, of a link. The machine would learn through being that close to a human mind and the driver would come to understand the AI."   
"Well, I think Kitt and I pretty damn well worked that out by now! Without the freaking link!"   
Devon winced. "Yes. No one, least of all me, had any idea how fast the AI we had created would adapt and develop. Kitt was like a child and we thought of him as a learning computer, but he learned human traits and human ways only slowly. You have to see how it all began. Karr was born first and his development was a slow and painstaking process. His reactions to the outside world, to outside stimuli, were way off theoretical scales. All analytical data was wrong and Wilton was not very pleased. He read about the link somewhere and had the patent bought off the developer. He put a lot of effort into this new idea and when he finally found the driver he wanted for Karr, he had the implant surgically added to him."   
Michael closed his eyes and shook his head. "Nicholas told me. It didn't work and it was discontinued."   
"Yes, until Kitt was developed and you came along. Wilton wanted to try it one more time, but he never saw the completion of the team he had so long dreamed of. I knew about the implant and we were monitoring you and Kitt throughout the first missions, but nothing happened. Another failure."   
"Until today. Why did you never tell me, Devon?"   
"There was no point! What would you have done, Michael? You can't remove the chip, though yours sits in another position than Nick's. Wilton thought it might have been the wrong connections."   
"Maybe. It worked with me now."   
Michael chewed thoughtfully at his lower lip, anger still slowly boiling inside of him but no longer as hotly as before. MacKenzie came to mind again. His strange hints, the lines between the lines.   
"Could the first implant still work?" he finally asked.   
Devon raised an eyebrow, taken by surprise by the question. "I think not. There is nothing that would link to it, Michael! The implant was programmed to compliment circuits inside Karr, nothing else."   
He nodded and rubbed his forehead. "What now?"   
Kitt's presence was a low throb in the back of his mind, a comfort and also a reason of fear. Could he read him? His thoughts? His emotions? Could he influence him? They were so new at this, both frightened, both terrified, both curious. No one knew about this kind of thing....   
Except maybe.... no.....   
"First you have to get better, my boy, then we think about this new development." Devon rose. "It will influence both of you, your performance, your lives. We need to test what this means, take it into consideration when we send you out on assignments, and we have to know just how far it goes."   
Michael nodded absent-mindedly. "Kitt felt my pain."   
"He did?" Devon nearly gaped, but got his composure back within the second.   
"Yes. He was with me throughout the whole time."   
"That would explain his behavior. If this runs so deep....." Devon hesitated. "That was never foreseen." Their eyes met. "It goes way beyond what was planned....."   
"Oh, great," Michael muttered, not the least bit enthused. "You never thought it would succeed and now you have no idea what to do, right?"   
"In a way."   
He sighed. "Just great," he repeated. "What now?"   
Devon had no idea.

* * *

Justin entered the work area early in the morning, humming to himself. He had his laptop under one arm, as well as several print-outs and some disks, a mug of coffee in the other. He wasn't wearing any work overall, simply his jeans and a 'Mission Impossible' T-shirt. Justin was the only human Kitt had ever met who had an almost endless movie and TV shows shirt collection.   
"Morning!" he called cheerfully.   
"Good morning, Justin," Kitt replied readily. "You are early."   
Justin piled the laptop and the print-outs on his small work table. "Oh, I just want to catch up on some backlog stuff. How are you? Any problems with the repairs?"   
"I feel fine. You did very good work as always."   
He chuckled. "Thank you, Kitt, but I only do the cosmetics, not the surgery."   
"I think you do a lot more. You repair me."   
"I repair the car, not you," Justin corrected him, grinning. "You are not the car."   
Kitt was surprised. Except for Michael, Bonnie and Devon, no one saw any difference between the car body and the AI inside. It was the first time Justin had ever said something like this and they had talked on different occasions about all kinds of things. Thinking back, Kitt realized that he had always treated him a bit differently, but it had never stood out. Justin now opened his laptop and plugged it into the wall jack.   
"I am a car," Kitt said after some time. "I am what you see."   
Justin, logging in and waiting for the usual checks and procedures to finish, turned with a scowl on his face. "Don't give me that crap, Kitt. I've been working with you long enough to see that you are not simply a talking car. You are a personality and this TransAm is simply a way for you to move around." He shrugged. "I repair the body, but soul repair is beyond my capabilities."   
If Kitt were able to blink and swallow hard, he would have done so right now. "I don't understand. I am fine."   
The chief mechanic looked at him, his expression deadly serious. "I'm not blind, my friend. I repaired the bodily damage and I was there when Dr. Barstow took your core component out and put it back in again. I can read the monitors, I can tell what was going on at the time, and as a human being I have instincts. Something happened to you, Kitt, and it sits deep. It might not be that close call, that you nearly fried all your circuits, that the sonic disrupter field hurt you; it's something that goes beyond mere repairable damage."   
Stunned, Kitt was unable to reply for a moment. "I feel fine," he then repeated, his voice sounding weak and unconvincing to his own ears.   
"And how is your driver?" Justin asked casually.   
"Michael is recovering." He had almost snapped.   
The mechanic raised an eyebrow and Kitt's scanner stopped briefly while going back and forth, embarrassed.   
"I see." With that he turned back and began catching up on his paper work.   
Kitt simply sat there, unable to process what had just happened. Justin knew..... well, he suspected..... He suspected that something inside of Kitt had been hurt, something that could not be repaired by conventional means, and in a way he had volunteered to help, but Kitt couldn't accept the help offered. This was something very personal and something personally frightening and terrifying. He didn't understand it himself, so how could anyone else?

* * *

"So he somehow managed to hack into the file," Nicholas muttered and nodded his approval. "My compliments, Mr. Zane, but you were sloppy. You left traces. And a hidden access."   
He hacked some commands into his laptop and waited. The cyberworld of FLAGNet was open to him and he walked through it without hesitation. He knew every corner. Smiling coldly, Nicholas grafted a transparent software relay and then removed his presence. Zane had kept a way open for him to come back and the moment he did, a trip wire alarm would be set off, alerting Nicholas. Zane didn't have the cyberspace knowledge to cover his tracks better or too hide even deeper.   
"You are working on Zane again," the level voice of the Stealth interrupted his musings.   
He looked up and smiled again. "Yes."   
"You are wasting time that could be spent arresting Kerrington."   
Nicholas' smile widened. "Oh, I'm working on that one as well."   
"Correction: you employed me to do most of the detective work."   
Setting the last trip wires, Nicholas prepped the alarm and then left FLAGNet. "I thought you said that's what you are so good at, Karr."   
Annoyance swamped through the neuro link and Nicholas set the laptop aside, walking over to the parked car.   
"Zane worries me to a degree," he finally told the AI. "He hacked FLAGNet and that is something he couldn't have done alone. He is into robotics, not computer electronics. He had help and somehow I suspect Kerrington is that help."   
"Can you prove it?"   
"No, at least not yet."   
There was a short silence, then Karr said, almost thoughtfully, "Neither Kerrington nor Zane ever had any contact with each other."   
"Openly," Nicholas added. "I think there is a connection and maybe Kerrington is using Zane to get back at FLAG for the busted deal. He lost millions when Michael burst in on that deal and he lost face as well. You don't screw up with the Japanese. Zane wants revenge for a lost opportunity or whatever. He has a hidden minority complex and gets easily over the top in his actions."   
He leaned against the cool metal, forehead wrinkling in deep thought.   
"I think I need to talk to Michael again. I never asked if Zane said anything about reasons." Criticism rang in his voice. Nicholas hated nothing as much as missing pieces of something he could have easily obtained.   
"You intend to break into the mansion?" Karr wanted to know, voice neutral.   
Nicholas chuckled. "Oh, no. We make that a very official visit."   
Icy silence greeted him. "We," Karr then echoed.   
MacKenzie nodded, an almost sadistic twist to his expression. "Of course 'we'. You think I'd walk?"   
This time there was no answer and with a chuckle he went to pick up some things he might need.

* * *

Michael was in the garage, as always, and he was sitting inside Kitt – as most of the time. Sometimes he chose a chair, sometimes, if his injuries let him, he used the hood, leaning back against the windshield. Right now he was sitting on the driver's seat, leaning comfortably back into the plush seat, eyes closed, totally relaxed. This was the only place he could ever do it. He trusted Kitt implicitly and infinitely. He was safe here.   
In the back of his mind, at the base of his neck, beneath the skin, muscle and between the bone, sat the neuro link. He had tried to get all the information possible and he had finally found everything available to him. But it was only medical data, never anything about how it worked, what it was supposed to do. Michael was trying to work all of this out. He felt Kitt .... his presence... a warmth in his find, a gentle fire. It never burned too much, though sometimes he thought it was like a spike, a flash.   
"Kitt?"   
"Yes, Michael?"   
Kitt was trying to sound normal, but there was an underlying tremor. He was afraid on a level Michael thought he understood. This was no physical wound that could be healed. This was lying deeper, touching a part no one had ever touched before, a world Kitt had inhabited on his own all that time and was now sharing with his driver. Michael wasn't even sure it was something his partner wanted. Hell, he wasn't sure he wanted Kitt to share his mind! But it really wasn't that bad, if he thought about it, though he had little experience as of yet, and neither of them had overly much tried getting the link worked out. They had to start some time and while Michael was still not allowed to go out, he could at least try and start it all.   
"How do you feel?"   
Kitt was silent, perplexed. "I feel okay," he finally answered.   
"And what do you feel?"   
Again silence. A long silence. Michael had his eyes closed, still trying to stay relaxed while sensing his partner's nervousness. It was emitting in little waves, intermixed with an underlying fear, and it all came through the neuro implant. Michael had developed something he called a sixth sense when it came to the AI inside the car he drove; he could read Kitt, his voice, his mood, but he had never read his emotions. Now he could.... there was no way around it. Kitt projected, he received. And it wasn't the first time. While confined to his bed and room he had felt it as well, thought the drugs had dampened the input.   
He knew it worked both ways. He knew Kitt sensed him as well, had been through the same agonizing pain and terror as Michael had, and he was trying to battle this on his own.   
"I know you can feel what I feel, Kitt," Michael now said softly. "I know you felt the pain, the agony of being shot. You told me. Can you feel me now as well?"   
The voice panel flickered, but no sound could be heard. Michael reached out and gently touched the dash.   
"Kitt?"   
"You....I can feel..." Kitt whispered.   
"Yes?"   
"I feel... too much, Michael.... Can't process!" The last was uttered in rising panic.   
And that was their main problem. Kitt was trying to deal with more input than he was used too, at a level that was putting him under constant stress, and there was no way to release this stress.   
"We have to learn how to deal with it, Pal," he told him calmly, much more calm than he felt. And since the link was open, Kitt felt his agitation, his doubt, his fear. A tremor raced through the frame around him and Michael placed both hands on the steering wheel, clenching his fingers around it, thumbs rubbing the dark plastic. "We can do it," he insisted. "Kitt, we can do this, I'm positive! Trust me!"   
"I trust you," Kitt whimpered, voice wavering. "But this is .... too much!"   
Michael winced as panic and terror of human emotions assaulted him, He screwed his eyes shut and inhaled deeply.   
"Kitt, override sub-routine 4/z-l.7," a voice suddenly interrupted their silence. "Switch to 5.k/l."   
The pressure in his head died abruptly, sinking to a bearable level. Michael was still aware of Kitt, but on a much more pleasant level. It was almost... beautiful, like a soft embrace by an invisible being. Turning, he blinked his eyes open in surprise.   
"Nicholas!" he breathed.   
Nicholas MacKenzie leaned against Kitt's hood, his whole posture relaxed. "I told you we'd meet again."   
"What did you do to get here? Break in?" Michael asked, not even trying to get out of the car to greet the other man. He knew he wouldn't be able to. His body and mind were suddenly permeated by exhaustion, both from himself and Kitt, and his partner's presence was almost possessive. He tried to send back reassurance, but he didn't even know whether it arrived at Kitt's end of the link as he had sent it off or differently.   
"I thought I'd try the front door and the strange device they call a bell this time," MacKenzie answered good-humoredly. "How are you doing? Both of you."   
Michael sighed deeply. "We are... learning. What are you doing here?"   
"I came to ask you some questions concerning what happened back in the desert. Might be related to a case I'm working on."   
"Zane? You are working on a case concerning Zane?"   
"No." No explanation followed, though Michael noticed a little twitch in MacKenzie's expression, as if he was suffering from a headache.   
"Devon knows you are here?"   
"Yes."   
"Okay... what do you want to know?" Michael sighed.   
"I want to know if Zane only threatened you or the others as well."   
Michael raised both eyebrows. What kind of question was that if MacKenzie wasn't working on catching Zane? "You are after Zane," he then stated.   
"No. My target is someone else."   
"Okay, okay, you won't tell me." Michael flashed him a tired grin. "You want to know why Zane did this?"   
"Yes."   
"Revenge. He wants to kill everyone who stood in his way, everyone connected to FLAG."   
Nicholas frowned. "Everyone.... As in: all four of you. The key members." He rubbed his chin, then nodded. "Makes sense. The weapon he used, you know it was a sonic disrupter?"   
Michael nodded. "Bonnie is working on a shield for Kitt."   
"And you two have to work on a shield for each other," MacKenzie said calmly.   
"We are trying."   
"But not hard enough."   
Michael finally managed the drive and strength to get out of the car. He felt Kitt's whimper, though there was no sound. Loneliness, need and .... love ... swamped him. Kitt didn't want him to leave. Almost unconsciously he placed a hand on the black roof, leaning slightly against his partner, as much as the injury allowed him to anyway.   
"He is projecting his need to keep close," Nicholas stated as if someone had said all of the emotions out loud. "But he is equally scared of what it means, aren't you, Kitt?"   
There was no reply.   
Michael blinked. "How....?"   
"I know about the link, Michael. Everything. I studied it."   
But you never connected, Michael thought. Or did you? How do you know about this if you didn't?   
"And you know how to handle it?"   
Their eyes met. "Yes," Nicholas then said levelly.   
"Want to share your expertise?"   
"Have some time?"   
Michael nodded. "Here or somewhere else?"   
Nicholas looked around. "Some place quiet, for starters. You have to learn how to handle this in all kinds of situations, but for now I think somewhere without disturbance would help."   
Michael nodded. "I know a quiet spot here."   
A minute later Kitt left the garage and drove toward the far end of the premises.   
Devon stood at the window of his study and watched the black car slowly pick its way along the unpaved gravel road. Then his eyes fell on an equally black car of unknown design, parked outside the mansion. Nicholas MacKenzie's car. Something bothered him about it, but he finally shrugged and went back to his desk.

* * *

Justin was working at the lab computer usually used by Bonnie when she was logging into FLAGNet and browsing for files or simply typing in her reports. He had his own PC, but that was in the second lab and he had spent most of his afternoon here, cataloging things, typing in is own report, helping some of his colleagues with minor stuff, he had decided that he could hope into the net, get some orders for replacement parts out, and then grab a bite to eat before he got off duty.   
Justin Turner considered himself a lucky man. He had always had a knack for mechanics and though his parents had wanted to see him study something like engineering or electronics, he had been most happy fiddling with old stuff, taking it apart, repairing it, and putting it back together. To at least show some gratitude for the money his parents had put into his education, he had taken two semesters of electronics and some on and off courses concerning all kinds of engineering. Strangely enough, it had been interesting and Justin had continued, though not exactly top of his class. He was still a hands-on man and while the theoretical knowledge was there, putting it on paper was a horrifying experience. One of his professors had realized that dilemma or handicap and had asked him if he would be interested in teaching what he knew, though he would never make it as a college professor. Justin had agreed. It was a part-time job and it gave him money, though not much, until he could find a decent well-paid one.   
That was when FLAG had popped up in the shape of Devon Miles and had offered him the said job. Justin had been slightly surprised, even overwhelmed, but not enough not to ask what was foremost on his mind, and he had always been a rather outspoken person, "Why me?"   
The explanation was a rather simple one: he was one of the best in his field.   
'But I'm missing a degree!' Justin had pointed out.   
A degree is only a piece of paper. What FLAG needed was someone who knew what he was doing and was adaptable. Justin Turner had apparently been one of the candidates. Sometimes he wondered if he had been the first in line or one of the last; if anyone had turned down the offer. He had never really dug into it. He liked his life, he had never had any problems with the fact that the car he worked on was an artificial intelligence, and he had never regretted his decision.   
Finishing his orders he browsed a bit through the catalogues, looking for anything new on the market, maybe something useful that none of the tech-heads had thought of buying. That was something that amused him to no end. Most of the guys around here had a degree, they came from known colleges, but they couldn't tell a screw from a nail in real life. Theory was all well and fine for them, but the moment they were expected to transform theory into practice, it turned mostly catastrophic. Well, that was why mechanics were part of the team as well. They all worked well together and respected the other's field of expertise. Otherwise they'd never get anything done around here.   
As he went through the net he suddenly noticed that the performance was going down. The transfer rate was slowing and there was a cracking noise. The computer screen flickered, then died once, only to come to life again. Puzzled, Justin reached behind the screen. Maybe there was a loose connection.   
Something sizzled.   
Justin drew back, the sound alerting him.   
And then the screen exploded right into his face. He yelled, his eyes bursting into flames of pain. Justin heard someone call his name, but the pain in his eyes drowned out everything else.   


Bonnie had come looking for Justin because she wanted to talk about Kitt with him. He had a different approach to their friend than she had and maybe he had been able to get something out of him. Something was happening here of which she had no clue of and Devon was shutting her out. It concerned Michael and Kitt, and it didn't seem to be overly much reason for joy. Entering the lab she found Justin at her computer, something she was used to. There were no personal secrets on the hard drive and it was company property to be used by anyone who wanted to.   
Suddenly there was a spark from behind the screen, from the place where it was connected to the consoles. Bonnie had no time to react to anything.   
The screen of the computer exploded into Justin's face and set off a chain reaction that finally ended with the whole console blowing out. The shock wave sent her flying into the wall. The breath was driven out of her lungs and she lay on the floor, gasping for air, struggling for every breath. Bonnie's head swam and her vision was dimming. Still she struggled to his feet.   
"Justin?" she groaned, trying to see through the smoke of the smoldering fires.   
Alarms were going off and she heard shouts in the background. A minute later the room was filled with helping people. Someone guided her to the outside where she leaned against the next wall.   
"Bonnie?"   
Bonnie blinked dazedly and tried to focus on the voice. There was a cut on her cheek, but it didn't bleed much. Something must have just grazed her.   
"Devon?" she asked.   
"Yes. How are you? What happened?"   
She rubbed her forehead. "My head .... I think I need an aspirin. Otherwise I feel fine. As for what happened.... Oh my god! Justin....!"   
Devon grabbed her arm. "We have an ambulance on the way. Bonnie, what happened?"   
"The .... the screen and the whole computer console exploded," he stuttered, only now realizing what that meant. "This is impossible!"   
Devon's face was suddenly very serious. "I want this area sealed off!" he then ordered one of the men close by.   
"Yes, Mr. Miles."   
"And you will be checked by a doctor as well," he continued and gave Bonnie a stern look.   
She only nodded, which did nothing to stop the blazing headache forming in her forehead.

* * *

"This won't be fun, Michael, I need to warn you about it." Nicholas' voice was calm and level, his icy blue eyes never leaving Michael's face.   
"I'm ready."   
"You are not," MacKenzie told him bluntly. "No one ever is, not for this. But as a human you are infinitely more adaptable than a computer and you will in time understand." He turned to the silent car. "He is the one I am concerned about. You talked?"   
Michael glanced at his still silent partner. There was nothing coming through. "I tried."   
Nicholas nodded. "Kitt?"   
"Yes, Nicholas?" was the as usual calm answer.   
"Do you know what happened to you?"   
"Yes."   
"Let me clarify it. I'm not talking about mechanical or engineering problems. I don't care what happened to the car." Nicholas never let his eyes leave the AI. "I'm talking about Kitt, not the shell. Do you know what happened to you?" he repeated the question.   
"Yes." This time the answer came more hesitantly and there was an underlying tremor in it.   
Michael wanted to step forward, assure his partner everything was okay, that it was nothing bad to feel this way, but an outstretched hand from the other man stopped him. The link started to throb almost imperceptibly.   
"Then tell me what happened, Kitt," MacKenzie demanded.   


Kitt heard himself deliver a neutral and calm description of the attack and the destruction of his car body, of how the sonic disrupter had shaken him up. It was like watching oneself from another point of view, detached and neutral. Then he reported on how Michael had been shot, how he had bled.... and that was when the first tremors began. He fell silent before it got too much.   
"And what else happened?" MacKenzie asked immediately.   
"Nothing," Kitt managed, but the painful contraction in his CPU contradicted him.   
No! he whispered. This can't be happening. Not to me. This can't be happening. It became a chant in his mind and he tried to ignore the pain and the dizziness. He wasn't used to this. It was so alien and still so intimately familiar. It was Michael. And he trusted Michael, he knew him, they were friends... partners.... and now – much more.   
"I don't agree with you."   
"I don't want to talk to you anymore!" Kitt stuttered, surprised by his own harshness. He never really verbally attacked a person, but right now Nicholas was the enemy, someone who dug and demanded...... and demanded too much.   
"Why do you deny it?" the hated voice of MacKenzie asked.   
Kitt was silent, pondering the question. Yes, why deny it? Answer: he was terrified so deeply of the link, it took all his willpower not to run.   
Nicholas shrugged. "Okay, you want to play it like this, fine with me. Kitt, you are on the brink of completing the neuro link and you are not helping either of you two!"   
"No!" Kitt cried, aghast as he noticed he had called it out loud.   
"You are hurting Michael."   
Whimpers rose into the choked scream. His engine started with a howl and his tires twitched.   


Michael flinched as Kitt started the engine and his high-pitched scream went through his body and soul. The link was transmitting the panic his partner felt and he was slowly losing touch with reality as Kitt fought and also fed his terror in one. Nicholas' insisting, torturing voice was getting to Kitt and it was also getting to Michael. How could he do this to his partner? How could he hurt him like this?!   
Anger and desperation rose inside him and he balled his hands into fists, fighting down a wave of irrationality.   
He listened to Nick's words, but he was also trying to ignore them.   
It was getting increasingly hard to do so.   
Suddenly he jerked back, eyes wide in involuntary terror. His breathing grew irregular and his entire body shuddered for an instant, then he slowly came around again.   
What was happening?!   


"You are destroying his mind," Nicholas pressed on, knowing it was the only way out of it. He had to get Kitt to realize what was happening, even if it was the hard way. And this way would be hard.   
Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Michael tense more and more, saw the pressure build up like a physical force, and the moment of the explosion was closing in.   
"No, please....." Kitt whimpered.   
He didn't like what he was doing to the AI. He hated torturing him like this, but it was a necessity now. The breaking point was near and he hoped that Michael would not do something stupid now.   
"Yes, you are. You are not helping him – and yourself -- by avoiding a confrontation, denying what has happened. He suffers just like you because you won't acknowledge him."   
Kitt gave a low moan that was soon rising into a keening sound.   
"Kitt!" Michael cried in pain, stumbling, hands clutching his head.   


Pain seared through him and he felt like something was tearing him apart circuit by circuit. He shrieked, the white-hot pulse of demand in his mind.   
Michael!   
Help me!   
He couldn't voice the words. They were inside his mind, but his voice box remained silent.   
MICHAEL!   
His engine roared again and the tires found traction, and this time he didn't brake. The car shot backwards, away from his torturer, but no amount of distance could take away what had already been done.   
Emotions flooded him: fear, anger, pain, love, hope...... Dreams followed, chased by reality. All originated from one human, a human he knew; someone he trusted; someone he knew better than anyone else.   
Kitt screamed.   
His car body stopped abruptly, dust settling on the quivering metal shell.   


Michael staggered after the retreating form of his partner. Kitt's cries were almost human now. His engine, still running full power while he didn't move, was starting to overheat.   
"Kitt.... stop," he managed with a choked sob.   
"Make it go away!" the AI begged.   
"It won't go away," Nicholas told him, voice still eerily calm. He followed the spasmodically twitching car. "You have to accept it."   
Kitt screamed again and this time his scream was echoed by Michael, who almost fell to knees. Kitt gasped, rocking forward, then pulling back again.   
"Hurt...." he moaned.   
"Yes, you are hurting him. And you are hurting yourself," MacKenzie's voice reached him. "Accept."   
"No.... it's not right!"   
"There is no wrong or right, Kitt. Only acceptance." MacKenzie ignored Michael who tried to force some strength back into his body. He stopped in front of the Knight Two Thousand, then crouched down so he was almost level with the flickering scanner. "No wrong or right," he repeated in a low, almost hypnotic voice. "Only acceptance. You know it, Kitt. Accept the link."   
"Pain...." Kitt whimpered.   
"Yes, pain. Agony. Helplessness."   
Kitt shrieked and his tires spun again.   
"You will feel it all. And joy, happiness, love, warmth......" Nicholas placed his hands left and right of the scanner. "You will be partly human."   
"Can't.... I am a machine," he moaned.   
"You are far more than a machine. You are beyond what they programmed you to be. Accept it. Accept the pain!"   
"Kitt...." Michael said tears in his eyes, touching him.   
He couldn't watch this any longer. He couldn't watch Nicholas drive his partner over the edge, but some little voice deep inside said this was only to help.   
Help that hurt before it got any better.   
Almost child-like fear hit him and he closed his eyes, letting his head sink onto the warm surface of the roof. He heard the click of a door opening and almost unconsciously climbed in. His injury stung, but it was a minor pain compared to what his mind was going through. He twitched faintly as Kitt's desperation mixed with his own, and then the world ceased to exist. There was only Kitt and him, no outside, no one else.... just the two of them.

*

When Michael finally woke it was already late in the afternoon. He was still inside Kitt, relaxed, though slightly stiff. His neck felt sore and he could kill for an aspirin, but somehow it all felt good... better.... complete.   
"Kitt?"   
The voice panel fluctuated and finally Kitt whispered, "Michael?"   
He touched the dash and ran a hand over it, something inside him telling Michael that Kitt found it soothing. He didn't know why he knew it, but it was there. A warm feeling of content coursed through him and he smiled. He kept up the soothing strokes and listened to the gentle pulsing inside his mind.   
Kitt.   
He was there, as he had been since the link had been established, but for the first time he was a calm sea of serenity and wellness, not a frightened entity clinging to the only thing he knew and trusted.   
"I'm here," he whispered as he curled up in the seat, enjoying the closeness. "I won't leave you alone." Neither of them would ever be really alone again.   
Kitt gave a soft sound and Michael leaned forward, hugging the steering wheel, resting his forehead against his partner. He was so tired, mentally exhausted. The pulse in his mind got stronger, holding him, soothing him just as much as he was soothing Kitt himself.   
"I love you, Kitt," he said, voice barely a whisper.   
"I love you too, Michael," Kitt answered, voice projecting slight awe and surprise at the words.   
Michael was surprised himself. He had never been able to express him emotions for his partner. He appreciated him in many ways, he was his back-up, his conscience, his friend, his partner.... someone he trusted without second thoughts. He had never really told Kitt, at least not in those particular words. He remembered expressing gratitude when Kitt had once again saved his hide, or when they had finished a case, or when Kitt had needed reassurance. But he had never said those three words. And he meant them. Kitt was part of him, his mind, and he didn't dare think about a time without him.   
Kitt's warmth was there again, taking the worries away. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. "Thanks, Pal."   
"What for, Michael?" Kitt inquired softly.   
"Being there."   
"I will always be there."   
Michael chuckled.   
Suddenly a thought struck him. Nicholas! Looking up and through the windshield he found he was alone. MacKenzie had disappeared once more. He had come to help and he had done so, now he was pursuing his own goals again. But why had he helped them so readily? And why did he know so much about this neuro implant? Yes, he had read all about it, but so had Devon, and Devon had no idea what to do. Devon didn't know any of the routines to shield or to protect. Nicholas had known, and he had known just what buttons to push.   
Nicholas MacKenzie was now even more a mystery to him than he had been before. Yes, of course, he knew some things about him, but every time he thought he had figured something out, new puzzles appeared.   
"Kitt?"   
"Yes, Michael?"   
"Is there a way to tell whether or not a neuro implant is dormant or not?"   
Kitt was silent for a moment, processing the question. "I think so, yes," he finally answered hesitantly.   
"Scan me, Pal. I want to know what an active implant looks like. And then I want to know what the one inside Nicholas is: active or inactive." Puzzlement floated through him and he smiled. "Just do it."   
With that he ignited the engine and they drove back to the mansion. Maybe MacKenzie was already gone again, but they would meet again, he was sure of it.   


And that meeting happened the moment they were back. Nick's car, the strange black Stealth, was still parked in front of the mansion, but the gravel had been roughed up by many more tire marks and feet. Feeling a dark premonition rise inside him Michael got out of Kitt and walked into the house. As he entered Devon's office the dark premonition turned into cold certainty.   
"Devon?" he asked carefully.   
Devon looked up, eyes expressing anger and exhaustion in one. Nicholas MacKenzie sat on the old leather couch standing against the wall, his laptop on his knees, apparently completely unaware of Michael's presence.   
"Michael, sit down," Devon said, sounding old.   
"What happened?" Michael wanted to know, still standing. His injury started to throb lightly.   
What he heard next was enough to make him sit down quite quickly. "How are Justin and Bonnie?" he wanted to know, voice trembling.   
"Bonnie has some bruises and a shock, Justin.... he has burns on his hand and in his face, but it looks like nothing major happened." He sighed softly. "The technicians are currently checking the exploded computer and console." He pinched his nose.   
Michael was shocked and he felt the shock echoed by his partner. "But... why?"   
"We don't know."   
"Zane."   
Both men looked at the dark-haired ex-agent who now closed his Pentium. Nicholas' face held an expression that chilled even Michael, who knew him better than Devon.   
"Bobbie Zane?" he now asked.   
MacKenzie nodded. "He is after you, all of you, and he tried it again."   
"But he failed," Devon said stiffly.   
"Not really. He is playing with you, making you nervous. The attempt on Michael and Kitt was serious, but I think this time he just wanted to shake you up."   
"He succeeded."   
Nicholas smiled coldly. "Yes, but he is no professional. He leaves traces as he works."   
"And you got a trace?"   
"Not yet, but I set up trip wires and after this incident he will be back, and when he comes, alarms will go off," MacKenzie explained.   
"Comes where?" Devon wanted to know.   
"FLAGNet."   
"He hacked into our mainframe?" the boss of FLAG exclaimed.   
"Yes."   
"And so did you," Michael added, a faint expression of amusement in his eyes.   
Nicholas kept his silence, icy blue eyes meeting his.   
Devon sank back into his chair, closing his eyes. "So what do you want us to do? Wait till he strikes again?"   
"No. He will trigger the alarms next time and then we have him and his location. Just be patient, Devon." Nicholas rose, walking toward the door. "I'll be around."   
"You won't stay here?" Michael asked.   
MacKenzie stopped, hesitating. "It could be days and you know I'm not a people person." With that he left.   
Michael and Devon sat silently in the office, each lost in his own thoughts, Michael feeling Kitt's presence with him. He was glad for the soft pressure, the gentle tingling, and he felt himself relax involuntarily.   
"We have to do something," he heard himself say.   
"Yes, and what you will do is get some rest, Michael," Devon answered.   
A protest rose in his throat, but it was squelched by both Devon's stern look and Kitt's insistent push.   
Traitor, he thought darkly and wondered if it translated somehow.   
"Okay, okay," he muttered and rose slowly out of the chair. "I can take a hint."   
Satisfaction ran through him and he inwardly shook his head. Kitt was getting good at this and he still had to work out how to shield most of what was coming through at times he didn't need alien emotions distracting – or influencing – him.

* * *

James Kerrington was a business man with many talents and knowing the Internet was one of them. It was vital that he knew this virtual world and when he had given Zane the access to FLAGNet he had left a small window open for himself as well. Zane was simply breezing in there and took what he wanted, never minding the traces he left, and since FLAG had only simple guard dogs, no one had seen him yet.   
Kerrington now moved over to his PowerBook and plugged it into a wall jack. He linked up to VRINet and then moved carefully through the shutters and shields surrounding FLAGNet. Then he found the thread that symbolized the link to the foreign net. He stopped and surveyed it. After a while he nodded. There is was. A faint trip wire had been placed just in front of him. He examined it and nodded once more. Professional. Almost undetectable and totally invisible to an amateur like Zane.   
MacKenzie.   
It had to be him. He had a bag of tricks even Kerrington was in awe of and he was a worthy opponent. MacKenzie had been after him for years now and one day they would have their confrontation. That time might be soon.   
"Well, Mr. MacKenzie, you might be clever, but you are not that clever."   
Kerrington reached out with one hand and picked up the cell lying not far away. He dialed and waited.   
"I'm inviting the honored guests over. Prepare the party room," was all he spoke into the phone.   
Zane had done some pretty good work as a start and now it was time to finish it.

* * *

Justin was released from hospital thirty-six hours after the incident, with the strong advice not to work and take it easy. One hand was wrapped up to keep it from infection because the burns and cuts had been quite serious and his face looked like he had a major sunburn, especially around the eyes. The skin was red and blistered and he had to treat it with special medication. Still, he insisted he could come back to work.   
"Justin, we don't need you right now," Devon told the younger man. "You should be at home and resting."   
Justin sighed, shaking his head. "Mr. Miles, at home I'd be lying on the couch and be bored to death, cursing TV programs. Here I can at least help out, even if it's just with advice!"   
Justin Turner had no real family. His only relatives lived in Florida and he hadn't seen them in years, he was not married and also not involved. Devon had never inquired about him when it came to Justin's personal life, but he seemed to live and breathe his job.   
"All right, you can stay," he finally said. "But you will follow the doctor's orders and if Bonnie or anyone else catches you actually working with a tool in hand, you are definitely on leave!"   
Turner grinned. "Yes, Sir!"   
With that he left. Devon shook his head and smiled slightly.

* * *

Bonnie stood in the lab where the accident had happened, looking around. There were still burn marks on the wall and ceiling, and the computer console had not been replaced. There was a big gap where it had been located and she knew it was currently in another lab, waiting for more thorough checks.   
Sabotage.   
She couldn't believe it! Mainly because it meant someone had broken in here without setting the alarms off and then had disappeared again. It frightened her to think what else could be booby-trapped. Wrapping her arms around herself she tried to suppress a shiver.   
A hand touched her shoulder and she gave a startled yelp.   
"Wow, sorry!" Michael exclaimed, raising his hands, as she whirled around. "I didn't mean to startle you!"   
Bonnie inhaled deeply and got her frayed nerves under control again. "No, I'm sorry. I think I was a bit far away with my mind. I didn't hear you coming."   
Michael nodded, giving her a critical look. "How are you?"   
She smiled weakly. "Bruised and the headache seems to like me, but otherwise I'm fine. What are you doing here?"   
"I could ask you the same thing," Michael answered with a fine smile. "Well, I was looking for you."   
"Me?"   
He gently put an arm around her shoulders and guided her out of the lab. "I thought that maybe you want to have breakfast with the other invalid," he teased.   
"I'm not an invalid!" Bonnie protested, but she didn't protest against his arm around her shoulders all that much. The little voice was there again, telling her that she was dangerously close to falling into a trap she had vowed never to come even close to. She squelched it.   
"Okay, aspiring invalid then," Michael corrected himself with amusement audible in his voice. "So, how about it?"   
Bonnie sighed and nodded. She hadn't had much of a breakfast anyway, too wired to eat. Her mind was revolving around the possibility that someone had unlimited access to the FLAG premises.   
"Michael?" she asked as they walked down to the garage where Kitt was waiting.   
"Yes?"   
"You know what this implies, do you?"   
"We are having a date?" he joked.   
Bonnie grimaced. "I'm talking about the accident."   
Michael's face was suddenly dead serious. "Yes, I know. Devon ordered a complete check of all security installations."   
"But you think it won't work," she finished.   
He nodded, echoing her darkest fears. She shivered again.   
Michael tightened his hold around her shoulders briefly. "We can handle this. We will get through it," he told her softly. "We will find Zane and then it's over."   
Bonnie wasn't so sure and she knew Michael wasn't either. Both knew Zane could never have pulled this off alone and that he had had competent help breaking into the compound.   
"What about Nick?" she wanted to know as they arrived at the garage.   
Michael sighed. "I'm not sure. Haven't heard from him since the incident, but that's nothing new."   
They got into the car and Michael started the engine.   
"Do you think ..." Bonnie inhaled deeply. "Do you think he might have sold FLAG secrets?"   
Michael, who had just been about to drive out of the garage, stopped and his head whipped around to stare into Bonnie's pale face.   
"What?" he managed.   
"Michael, he openly confessed he can get in and out of FLAGNet without the slightest trouble. No guard dog was ever set off. He knows all about us and he is a free agent! We have no idea where his loyalties lie!"   
Michael remembered the moment in the desert. Nicholas had helped him and Kitt. He could have let them die if it had been his intention, but he had helped and he had guided, and he was still helping. He knew so much about this implant and he could just walk away and let them painstakingly work it out, but he had managed to get both, car and driver, to at least accept it. Looking back at it now, Michael realized that what Nicholas had done had been far more. Why.... well, that would most likely forever remain a mystery, but he had been there and he had not come to hurt them.   
But while Kitt and Michael had been out, the accident had happened.....   
He recoiled at the thought. No, it couldn't be! MacKenzie might be a free agent and he had done and still did nasty things; things Michael would probably get nightmares of, but he was not without honor. He worked by a codex and he had so far never broken it. He was no criminal. He had worked with Nick for some time when they had had a common goal: catch James Kerrington and stop his deals. Michael had not been able to find out much about the other man back then and he still had only a sketchy idea of what he was and who, but he had learned one thing: Nicholas MacKenzie never did anything that went against his code of honor. He might kill but never without reason, and why should he want FLAG destroyed?   
Maybe because FLAG did something to him in the past that was even now affecting him, the voice inside him whispered darkly.   
Michael briefly closed his eyes. "No," he then insisted.   
"How do you know?"   
"I just know."   
Bonnie sank back deeper into the plush seat as he eased Kitt out of the garage and finally off the property.   
"Michael, we have to face it as a possibility."   
He shook his head. "Nicholas may earn his living through dubious and dangerous means, but he is not a killer for hire!"   
"But he was."   
Michael rolled his eyes. "He was a CIA agent."   
"Same thing."   
"Bonnie!"   
She sighed deeply. "I still don't trust him. I never did!"   
Michael wasn't so sure he could say he fully trusted MacKenzie either. He was extremely dangerous, armed or unarmed, and he never wanted to be on the other side when facing him. There was a ruthlessness about him that was terrifying, but he was not without conscience. But Michael could say with all his conviction that Nick had not sabotaged FLAG. There would be nothing to gain from it.   
"It was Bobbie Zane and he had help, probably Kerrington," he now told his passenger.   
"That's what MacKenzie says."   
"Oh, Bonnie, please!"   
"If I may toss in my two cents," Kitt suddenly broke into the conversation. "I don't believe Mr. MacKenzie is responsible either."   
"Thanks, Pal."   
"Though he has a dubious background and sells his services," Kitt added neatly.   
Michael groaned. "There is no reason why he should do it!"   
"He could sell FLAG's secrets!"   
He shook his head, feeling annoyance creep up inside of him. "Can we talk about something else? Maybe about what we do now?"   
"Well, you could find a parking spot and we can have breakfast," Bonnie remarked and pointed at a breakfast diner to their right.   
"Very good idea!"   
Five minutes later they were inside. While studying the menu, Bonnie tried to find a way to breach the next pressing subject on her mind, something Devon had continuously evaded talking about. When the waitress had taken their orders, she thoughtfully traced a pattern on the checkered table cover.   
"Michael, can I ask you something?"   
He raised an eyebrow, stirring the coffee the waitress had already brought them. "Does it have something to do with Nick?"   
"No."   
"Okay, shoot."   
Bonnie waited until breakfast was served and then inhaled deeply. "Michael, what is a neuro implant?"   
Michael, busy spearing a sausage, stopped. "Errr.... neuro implant?" he stuttered, slipping his poker face on. "I don't know...."   
Anger flared up inside her. "Stop hiding it!" she snarled angrily. "Devon knows about it, he received a file from MacKenzie and immediately had to talk to you!" She pointed the fork at him and Michael moved back an inch. "I know something is the matter and it started right when Zane nearly killed you and Kitt! What is it? What is a neuro implant?"   
He sighed. "Something quite complex and something I really don't understand either," Michael then mumbled, regarding the sausage absent-mindedly.   
"Well?" she asked impatiently.   
With another sigh he started to explain to her what he knew, what he had experienced, and Bonnie forgot all about her breakfast. She could only gape. This sounded all too fantastic to her and too alien. She felt jealousy rise as Michael told her about being able to sense Kitt's emotions. Kitt was her baby! She was like a stepmother to him and she had been there when he had been born, spoken his first words, had taken his first steps, so to speak. She was reminded of how angry and jealous she had been when Michael Knight had appeared in her life, taking over what she had created, influencing the innocent AI, changing Kitt in subtle ways. She knew it was called 'development', but at that time she had been resentful.... maybe even envious.   
And now this.   
But then reason won. She no longer hated Michael Knight for being so close to Kitt. She mostly envied them both, but she liked to watch their friendship, the little hints and signs here or there. She had helped bring Kitt to life, but Michael had really made him what he was today. Now something had brought them even closer and she didn't know whether to laugh or cry.   
"Bonnie?" Michael's voice interrupted her thoughts. "Are you okay?"   
She nodded and took a sip of the almost cold coffee. "Yes, yes, I'm fine.... just a bit..." She shrugged. "I don't know what."   
"Shocked? Scared?"   
"A bit of both."   
He smiled wryly. "So am I. Kitt and I need to work this out. Nicholas... helped us, gave us a start, but there is so much more...." He rubbed his neck and felt a tingle run down his spine. Kitt was with him. He wished he could tell most of the impulses apart. When they triggered a similar reply in him it was okay, but sometimes Kitt's transmissions were confusing, even alien.   
"What now?"   
He met her worried and anxious eyes. "I don't know, Bonnie. I just don't know. We have to see what happens and how it develops. Devon said the implant cannot be removed because it sits deep inside my head and there are probes running into my brain and down my neck. And to be honest, I don't really want to have it removed. It... it brings me closer to Kitt on a level I have never experienced before and I kinda like it. It's new, but .... I want it."   
Warmth flooded him, something he knew very well, and he smiled gently. Yes, Kitt, I love you too. He didn't know how he could have translated this feeling, but he had. He knew what his partner had wanted to say.   
Bonnie saw the smile and smiled as well, nodding. "I understand." She touched his hand and squeezed it. "I really do."   
When he met her eyes and smiled, Bonnie felt warmth rush through her and she withdrew her hand, quickly concentrating back on her now cold pancakes again. Her mind was busy trying to understand the implications of the implant, what it meant for the future, while her heart was busy pointing out that there was something else she might want to consider as well.

* * *

Justin Turner sat back in his chair, rubbing his eyes, wincing as he touched the still tender skin around his eyes. The injury had healed, though he still looked like he had been sunburned quite badly. His eyes had not been affected, just irritated for a few days, and he was relieved that no scars would remain. The faulty board responsible for the accident was still on his work bench as he went over it again and again. He couldn't really believe what he saw. Somebody had sabotaged it. And very subtly indeed. If he hadn't accessed the Internet continuously, it wouldn't have exploded at all. The faulty circuit had collapsed, feeding power back into the computer console, thereby destroying the safety mechanism and exploding it. It had been a chain reaction of incredible proportions, blowing out the whole computer array in the room.   
Whoever it was who done this, he had a very good grasp of the mechanics of their equipment. That made Justin frown. Devon had mentioned that the man behind this was able to get into FLAGNet and through it at FLAG. He had been on the premises to do this and though security had been tightened, there was no guarantee that something else would blow. Everyone was checking the equipment right now.   
"Hey, you know what Mr. Miles said about working!" a voice called and he whirled around, startled.   
No one was at the mansion. Kitt, Michael and Bonnie were out, Devon was on his way to some official meeting or other, and since this lab had already been swept by the techs, he hadn't expected any disturbances. Now he faced a burly man in a mechanic's overall, built like a wrestler. Short-cropped, red hair stood up on his head and his equally red face was creased into a good-natured grin. His name was Brian O'Malley, one of the mechanics under Justin's 'command'.   
"Just checking something...." Justin now started.   
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, tell it someone who hasn't found you asleep in the garage repeatedly, my boy. You were going over the equipment again. Not trusting the tech heads, eh? Can't blame you." Brian grinned.   
Justin simply shrugged, caught.   
"How about you leave that piece of metal where it is and we get some lunch?"   
Justin didn't feel hungry, but agreed. There was no disagreeing with O'Malley when it came to food. They left the lab and were halfway down the stairs when the phone rang. Taking the call at the extra phone Justin answered.   
"Turner here...." He stopped. "Yes. That's right. ....." His hand tightened on the receiver and his face drained of all color. "What?" he croaked and O'Malley looked alarmed at the reaction of the other man. "When? Is he all right?" As the caller answered the questions Justin relaxed a little, but only a little. "Thanks, officer."   
When he had returned the receiver to the cradle Brian asked: "What happened? Who called?"   
"That was the police," Justin said, voice flat, emotionless. "We have to call Michael and Bonnie. There was a car accident. Mr. Miles' limo lost control and crashed into another car. He's all right. Just a mild concussion. "   
"Holy!" Brian exclaimed.   
"I... I need to call Michael...."   
Justin inhaled deeply and called the Knight Two Thousand.

* * *

".....and then the brakes failed and I couldn't stop the car from crashing into one of the parked cars." Ralph McLachlan shook his head, regretting it immediately as a hammering pain started behind his eyes. "I don't know how it could have happened! I checked the limo from bumper to headlights. It's impossible that I could have missed something big as that."   
Michael pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming as well. Devon was in his room, resting, pain-killers easing the pain of the concussion. The doctors had forbidden him to do more than light reading and he was to take it easy. They had returned from the police station half an hour ago after they had gotten the call from Justin about the accident.   
The limo was in the police car park and would be released the next day after the police had had a look at it. Failing brakes were nothing to be taken lightly. Either the mechanics had overlooked the faulty brakes while inspecting the car -- which none of them believed -- or somebody had tampered with the car. There was always the possibility that McLachlan had simply lost control of the car because he had been inattentive, but neither Michael, nor Bonnie believed that. Ralph was an experienced driver and had been in FLAG's service right from the start. He knew his car inside out and always had it under control.   
Neither had lost a word about the other accident. They didn't want police rummaging around the mansion, trying to find the one who had done it. Michael knew who was responsible and there was nothing the police would be able to do. Zane had evaded capture by the official forces for years.   
"Thanks, Ralph. You better follow the Doc's orders and get some rest," Michael now told McLachlan.   
The driver nodded and left. Michael sat back, sighing deeply.   
"I'm just glad Devon is okay," Bonnie whispered and massaged her temples.   
Michael gently rubbed her shoulders. She sighed and tried to relax, but the image of Devon in the emergency room, a bruise on his forehead, trying to broadcast his usual calmness and control, was lodged in her mind. He had been concussed, confused, and after the pain-killers had taken effect, he had almost fallen sleep on the way home. Bonnie leaned into his gentle massage, feeling tired.   
"We will get Zane," Michael promised softly. In the back of his mind, Kitt's presence grew stronger and he fought his initial reaction: fighting the intrusion.   
Bonnie only nodded almost imperceptibly. They would get him.... but when?

* * *

For the next four days Michael spent most of his waking time with Kitt, talking, reassuring, helping. Bonnie was with them sometimes, trying to understand what was happening to her friends, but even though she had the background knowledge, the theoretic knowledge, about what had happened, she was far from understanding what was happening in practice. She watched Michael simply sit there, close his eyes and do nothing; apparently nothing. Sometimes he would wince or smile or twitch, but there was no other response. She had once asked if she could connect Kitt to a monitor and compare reactions, and she had been surprised to see changed happening inside the CPU, a change of transmission rate and more.   
But there were also episodes of fear. Bonnie remembered the moment when Michael had accidentally bumped into a chair and hissed in pain, doubling over as the shot wound had reacted to the mistreatment. The same second Kitt had given off a high-pitched scream and run straight into and through the garage wall. He had stopped outside, engine rumbling nervously, almost in pain, trembling with the shockwaves of the incident.   
Bonnie had only stared at him in realization and shock. It was the first time she saw the complete effects of the link and only then had she completely understood; and she had understood why Michael and Kitt were trying so hard to work on this. Michael had managed to calm Kitt down, but he was still freaked and it was echoing back into his driver. The rest of the day had been spent trying to get frazzled nerves back under control again. Right now he and Kitt were driving around a bit.   
She sighed and massaged her eyes, drinking coffee while reading over some print-outs. Devon, though not allowed to work, was buried in his office and rarely talked about the neuro implant and what it implied. Suddenly there was a ring from the mail box of the computer close by. She put down the print-outs and walked over, getting the mail. When she opened the file she immediately called Michael.

* * *

There was a small beep. It was not very insisting, but it was an alarm of sorts. Nicholas MacKenzie uncurled from his position on the couch and flicked off the TV with the remote. Walking over to the stationary computer he logged in and scanned the messages scrolling past. A smile crossed his features.   
"He set off the trip wire," MacKenzie muttered.   
He sat down and began hacking commands and codes into the computer, and a second later the computer's tracing program became active. The result followed right on the spot and Nicholas immediately dialled FLAG's number.

* * *

Michael sat inside his car, watching the office building. No one lived in the Bank District of the city; he was alone. It was a center of commerce and nearly deserted after closing hours. Those who worked late in the bank buildings usually parked their cars in the underground parking slots of the companies and only a few, mostly visitors, stopped on the streets. This being a Friday there was barely any traffic.   
"I'm going inside," Nicholas' voice came out of the loudspeaker.   
"Are you sure you don't want back-up?" Michael asked.   
"Yes. You stay put. I want to flush them out and the moment one of them makes a run for it, it's your turn."   
Michael sighed. He didn't like it and he knew Kitt didn't either. "All right," he muttered.   
Nicholas cut the link.   
"Kitt?" he finally broke the silence.   
"Yes, Michael?"   
"Is the Stealth anywhere?"   
Kitt started scanning the immediate area, then widened the search area. "If he is here," he finally said, "I can't detect him."   
Michael frowned. He remembered the time in the desert. Nicholas had been there and no sign of the Stealth. Bonnie had told him she had not seen it anywhere.   
"Keep on searching, but also keep an eye on activities in the building."   
Kitt got to work while Michael watched the entrance of the building as well. His mind was busy with the mystery of the Stealth.   


Not far away from them stood the searched-for vehicle. It was parked in a side street and plainly visible to a passer-by, but almost invisible to radar....

* * *

The shot was well-aimed and hit Nicholas high in the back, in the shoulder. Unlike in the movies, a bullet entering someone's body does not slam him forward or make him stagger. There is simply not enough momentum there. Nick just felt the piece of hot metal enter, surprise registering in his mind. As with every injury that comes unexpected, there is a grace period and for several minutes there would be no pain. He shifted the weapon from right to left without hesitating, not the least bit handicapped by using another hand, and aimed for the shooter. The man went down with a hole in his shoulder, immediately unconscious. He had been one of the security guards.   
Nicholas briefly checked for more opposition, then moved on. He had entered the building through a rooftop air duct, using it as a crawl way, and since it was late in a Friday afternoon the office building was empty. Except for the security guards. He would not have shot the now dead a few feet behind him, but he wasn't one of the normal watchmen. He was one of Kerrington's goons. After finding his way out again he had started to search for the most logical place where Kerrington might be and a register had helped him guide his steps to the correct floor – where he had already been expected.   
"Kerrington had just left the building," a cold voice in his ear informed him and he cursed softly.   
"Where is Knight?" he wanted to know.   
"Already pursuing him."   
Nicholas ran out of the building as fast he could, his shoulder wound now throbbing painfully and he knew he was losing blood with every beat of his heart. Karr was already in front and waiting, his engine growling impatiently. Cradling his injured arm, MacKenzie took place behind the steering wheel and closed the door. Disregarding several traffic regulations he floored the accelerator and sped after his target.

* * *

James Kerrington smiled coldly as he steered his Ferrari down the deserted street. This was going beautifully, even better than expected. Not only was Michael Knight on his tail but the accursed MacKenzie as well. Two birds, one stone.   
"Zane?" he asked calmly, his voice activating the microphone.   
"Yes, Mr. Kerrington?"   
"ETA is ten minutes. Everything prepared for our guests?"   
"We're ready to party," Zane chuckled.   
Kerrington's smile grew evil. "Then let's do it."

* * *

Michael had been in hot pursuit of the Ferrari the moment it had sped out of the garage and took the next corner at a break-neck speed. It was currently straight en route out of the city, taking the old highway. He wondered where they were going. The Ferrari took a left, off the highway, passed by an old fueling station several miles later and then took another turn toward a small forest. Michael was right on his trail, Kitt dealing with the now rougher road much better than the other car.   
From one moment to the next a trailer appeared in their path, effectively blocking it.   
"Kitt....!"   
The 'Turbo Boost' button lit up at exactly the same instant and the black TransAm took off like with a catapult. The truck flew past beneath them and Kitt landed with his back-wheels first, Michael feeling the jolt as he impacted with the street.   
The moment he looked through the windshield he knew he had flown right into a trap. He braked hard and Kitt stood face-to-face with the sports car that had nearly meant his death before. The blonde woman, Sylvie, was sitting behind the steering wheel, smiling coldly.   
"Michael!"   
Panic swung in Kitt's voice and Michael knew it was fear of what would happen. And the memory of what had happened before. The fear swamped him and he clenched his teeth.   
"Kitt, please," he whispered, trying to banish the alien emotions flooding his system.   
Kitt's voice panel flickered once, no sound coming out of him. "I ... can't control it," he finally said in a tremulous voice.   
Michael's hands curled around the steering wheel, knuckles white against the skin. "It's okay, Pal. We can do this and we can beat it! Bonnie's shield will work." He said it with as much conviction as possible.   
Kitt was silent, shivering deep inside, the echoes running through his driver. Michael knew what his partner was going through. Last time Kitt had been severely injured, Michael had nearly died, and the neuro implant had been activated. Maybe that was the only positive side-effect.   
"We can do it," he repeated under his breath. He stared straight ahead at the enemy. "The car is not armored and we have the advantage in that department."   
"The sonic disrupter field...." Kitt reminded him, trying to sound level.   
Michael briefly closed his eyes. He had to trust in Bonnie.   
"Let's do it."   
Kitt shuddered once more, but he didn't take over. And then the disrupter field hit them.

* * *

Nicholas was fighting the increasing pain in his shoulder, trying to ignore the spots appearing in front of his eyes, gritting his teeth. He tried to ignore the discomforts as much as possible, but it was getting increasingly difficult.   
"I scan the discharge of a sonic field," Karr suddenly said.   
He cursed softly. He cursed louder when something suddenly turned around the corner in front of him and started racing toward the Stealth. It was a truck with a heavy front grille structure, constructed as a ram. He glanced at the screen displaying his course and the street behind him, a vague plan forming in his mind.   
He kept on driving straight toward the monster truck.   
"Nicholas, do I have point out that we are traversing toward a semi-truck and, at our present speed, will collide with it in fifteen seconds.   
"No."   
Nicholas suddenly hit the brake and spun the wheel with one hand, his shoulder screaming in pain, sliding around 180 degrees. The trucks front bumper hit the Stealth's rear and Nick felt it jolt through them, though not inflicting any real damage. It was more like a glancing impact. Karr shuddered once and his annoyance was expressed through the implant, but he kept his silence. The truck scraped by on the left side and continued going like a locomotive. The driver tried to brake, but stopping this heavy monster was no small feat. The trailer started to break out and then the truck collided with the group of trees not far away.   
Karr slowed down and finally stopped. Nicholas sat in the seat, breathing hard, then finally opened his eyes.   
"Gotcha," he whispered.   
"I am glad I don't have an organic heart," Karr remarked dryly.   
Nicholas lifted one corner of his mouth. "Status?" he asked.   
"I am functional."   
"I'm talking about the driver."   
"Ah." Nicholas felt amusement rise inside of him at Karr's reply. "The driver is Mr. Zane. He is unconscious."   
"Injured?"   
"Yes." There was a certain amount of satisfaction in his voice.   
"Where is Knight?" MacKenzie wanted to know.   
"Currently engaging the woman and the disrupter."   
Nicholas frowned. "Damn," he then only whispered.

* * *

The disrupter field hit them full force and Michael felt it grate on his nerves, getting into every pore of his body, his mind overloading with sounds and noises that were no sounds anymore. He heard a scream that was either himself or maybe even Kitt; he didn't care. His eyes fixed on the car before them and he floored the pedal. Kitt took off on a dead-center collision course with the other car. Sylvie had not moved and trusted in the disrupter to get Kitt off course or to stop in time.   
Suddenly Kitt began to fight him. The 'Auto Cruise' button lit up and he swerved sideways, surprising his driver, then Michael punched 'Manual' and had control again.   
"Kitt!" he hissed.   
"I can't take this, Michael!" Kitt cried, pain audible in his voice.   
Michael gritted his teeth. He was very much aware of Kitt's ability to feel pain, especially since the neuro link had activated, but he had never heard him express it in his voice like this. Kitt had perceptors and sensors that gave him contact to the outside world and that made him very much aware. Bonnie had remarked on that as well, mainly because Kitt had once almost flinched away from a repair. Michael still remembered her surprise at that, and it had hit her twice as much when she had found out that Justin knew about Kitt's sensibility already. She had always thought that dampening the input throughout the repair would help. It only reduced input, nothing more.   
"Hold on, Pal!" he whispered.   
The next blast hit them and Kitt's scream was like that of a wounded animal. He fought Michael, who was fighting back, and shuddered under the onslaught. The shields were working, thought not in any way that could be called comfortably. The shields kept out the harmful waves, but they did nothing to cut out the sounds or to block the memories rushing in on him. Kitt's circuits remained undamaged, but his mind was severely rattled and he was flashing badly now. Michael winced as he felt his partner's panic, triggered by his previous experience, but ignored it all.   
Sylvie, seeing that the disrupter didn't have the wished for results, suddenly reversed the car and turned in one fluid move. She accelerated and tried to flee. The sonic waves ceased and Michael exhaled, Kitt's soft whimper telling him that his friend was feeling relief as well.   
"You won't get away that easily!" he hissed. "Kitt, jam her engine!"   
"With pleasure."   
"'Micro Jam' lit up and the effect was rather non-dramatic. Sylvie's engine simply died and the car rolled to a stop. Michael braked hard, stopping Kitt in front of the sports car.   
"Okay, lady, the end of the road for you!" he growled and got out. "Kitt, call the cops."   
"They are already on the way, Michael."   
Michael went over to the car and hauled the blonde bodily out of the driver's seat. She glared icicles at him, but didn't resist when he cuffed her to the frame of the door. Then he peered into the car, discovering the control panel for the disrupter that was sitting under the hood. Irrational anger rose inside of him.   
This was what had hurt his partner.   
What had nearly killed Kitt.   
The anger was echoed by the AI he was connected to and he grabbed the small control box, ripping it out of the dash, throwing it away.   
"Feeling better?" Sylvie sneered.   
She ducked when he turned and she looked into his furious eyes. Michael was very close to hitting her, but finally he walked over to Kitt.   
"Let's find Kerrington!" he hissed.

* * *

James Kerrington smiled as he watched the black Stealth stop not far away from where he had parked his Ferrari. No one got out. Maybe MacKenzie was already dead, but that would be too much to hope for, really. Finally the door opened and the familiar figure of the ex-agent climbed out, clearly wounded. He was moving slowly. Kerrington chuckled. This would be so easy, it was almost a crime!   
MacKenzie walked over to the Ferrari, checked it, and then let his gaze wander over the abandoned fueling station. Kerrington smiled and the smile widened as his enemy began walking right into the trap.   


Nicholas knew it was a trap from the moment he got out of the car. Karr's warning tingle was running along his nerves, but he knew it was the only way. He had to get Kerrington and blasting the fueling station to bits, as Karr had suggested, would not be an option, though it was very tempting. Banishing the pain his body to the farthest possible corner he approached carefully.   
"Anything?" he whispered into the microphone headset.   
"I detect a heat source inside the building," was the answer through the tiny button in his ear. "But there are interferences. I can't scan more."   
Definitely a trap, Nick nodded. "Get ready."   
Karr gave an affirmative and Nicholas stepped into the building. There was a warning from his instincts and he was barely fast enough.   
The first strike glanced off his good shoulder as he whirled around and raised his arm. The second blow hit his ribs and floored him. Almost winded, Nicholas rolled out of the way of the third blow, gritting his teeth against the searing pain racing along every nerve in his body. With a cry that expressed his pain and anger, he lashed out and struck a soft body, throwing it back. He tried to get to his feet, staggering, colorful spots exploding in front of his eyes. He was breathing hard and the pain was almost too much to bear. Something screamed in his mind and he knew it was Karr, but he walled that part off, having no time to contact his partner.   
Kerrington equally got to his feet, grinning. He spread his arms, holding a metal stick in one. "MacKenzie, my old enemy, I think this time I won!"   
MacKenzie stopped and stared at him, eyes flaming with hatred.   
"Tsk-tsk-tsk. Losing our cool, are we?" Kerrington teased. "You have lost, face it! And I won!"   
He got out his gun and lazily aimed at the injured man.   
The angry howl of an engine let him stop and look up. His eyes widened as he saw the black Stealth race toward the fueling station.   


Michael was witness to the spectacle from the outside. He and Kitt were closing in on the old fueling station when the Stealth, which they had seen parked until that time, suddenly took off and crashed into the wooden building, taking the complete front wall with him. Someone flung the side door open and made for the red Ferrari.   
"Kerrington!" Michael whispered.   
Kitt confirmed the identity.   
The Ferrari took off with an incredible speed and Michael felt a familiar thrill race through him. The hunt was on!   
"Let's get him!"   
"Michael, I detect a man in the collapsed building," Kitt interrupted him. "His condition is serious." A display lit up and showed Michael just bad it was. Blood loss, shock, trauma to the shoulder, physical fatigue taking over... all vital signs were dropping rapidly.   
The Ferrari was back on the street now and accelerating. Kerrington was getting away.   
"Michael, this is Nick," a voice suddenly said through an open line. "Get after him, damnit! I am fine!"   
MacKenzie sounded weak and exhausted, Michael heard, and his words were lies. He didn't need the voice analyzer to pick it up. He was far from fine and he wouldn't get better within the next few minutes.   
"Michael....." Kitt said slowly. "We can't risk his life while trying to catch Kerrington."   
"I know, Pal, I know. Inform the police that about the fugitive, then get an ambulance."   
Michael steered the TransAm toward the half-collapsed building.   


Nicholas MacKenzie gritted his teeth. It felt like someone had stuck a glowing hot nail into his shoulder, immobilizing his arm and hand. The arm grated horribly as he tried to move it, showing him that bone had been broken as the bullet had gone in, and the area was already swelling. Blood was flowing in steady streams and already soaking his shirt.   
"Karr!" he whispered as the world turned into a merry picture of flaming spots all dancing in front of his eyes.   
There was a response from the neuro implant, fear and rage. Nicholas felt his knees give way and he staggered, trying to force strength into his rebelling body. A mild electrical charge hit him and adrenaline flooded his system as the implant triggered it. He blinked, trying to chase the spots away.   
Something black appeared at his side and though his vision was by now extremely shadowed he instinctively knew it was his partner. Blood pulsed out of the shot wound and he stumbled against the dust-covered body shell surrounding the AI. He almost screamed in pain as this sent out agonizing signals and he immediately hunched over, trying to shield the affected area from imaginary torturers.   
"Nicholas?"   
He was breathing raggedly by now and he knew he was losing grip on everything. If he lost his last control and flooded Karr completely, he knew the Stealth would freak. It had happened once, many years ago, right at the beginning, and Karr had been unable to approach him for several days. The AI was horrified of such strong negative emotions because of what they triggered inside him. He relied on his partner to be strong and if Nicholas broke, so did Karr.   
"Karr? Are you there?"   
"Where would I go?" was the even reply, though Nicholas could feel the worry and fear quite openly.   
"A million laughs," Nicholas coughed, gritting his teeth as he felt the bullet in his shoulder grind against the broken bone and torn ligaments. He knew he was still losing blood and had already stained the shirt and jacket, holding on to consciousness with a supreme effort. "Where is Zane?"   
"Knight arrested him." Nicholas felt a gentle probe emitting from his neuro implant. "Kerrington escaped though."   
Nick cursed. He knew Michael was even now calling an ambulance and coming here to help him. Why hadn't he just gone after Kerrington?!   
"You need medical treatment." It was almost an answer to his unspoken question.   
The screen lit up with Nicholas' data and even though he couldn't see it, he knew it didn't look good. His vital signs were deteriorating.   
"How are you, Karr?" he now asked, resting his head against the heated metal.   
"Functional."   
Nicholas smiled tiredly.   
"Knight is approaching." Slight panic could be heard in the usually so inflectionless, chilly voice.   
"Calm down, partner," Nicholas whispered, opening his eyes and laboriously turning his head. His vision was phasing in and out. He couldn't move. His left side felt like it didn't belong to him and neither hand would obey the commands from his brain. All he could do was lean against the Stealth and wait. He was totally helpless, losing more blood by the minute.   
It was a dead reminder of something similar not too many weeks ago when Michael had been shot and bleeding to death in the desert.   
"Nick!"   
"Hi, Michael," he whispered hoarsely as the tall man stepped into his view.   
"Kitt called an ambulance." Knight knelt down beside him and checked the shot gun wound, wincing.   
"I know it doesn't look good," Nick said slowly. "You don't have to tell me. Did you get Zane?"   
"Yeah, and his girl-friend. The cops can arrest them when they are here." Michael's eyes strayed to the black vehicle behind his friend. Nicholas saw the question burning in them and he was briefly tempted to tell him everything, but then fatigue hit and he simply closed his eyes again.   
Karr's presence was stronger now, possessive, holding him, but he couldn't surrender. If he did, the AI would snap.   
"Michael?"   
"Yes?"   
"There is a first aid kit in the back. Get me the pain killers."   
Michael hesitated. "An ambulance is on the way, Nick. The paramedics...."   
"Michael, please. I can't lose it," MacKenzie whispered hoarsely.   
He hesitated once more, then nodded and walked to the back of the car.   


Michael walked around the car like around a nervous horse likely to kick out any second. Alarm bells were loudly ringing inside of him, warning him that he was about to touch something extremely hostile and dangerous. Nicholas had his back against the side of the Stealth, breathing raggedly, in pain, and clinging to consciousness with an extreme effort. What was going here? He had his suspicions and if they were correct..... Michael suppressed a shudder. Kitt's presence was strong in the back of his mind, warning him, spreading anxiety. He tried to send back reassurance that nothing was going to happen, but somehow he didn't believe in his own feelings.   
This car was dangerous.   
Kitt rolled over to them, facing the Stealth, scanner running back and forth. He blocked the car's way back out of the building.   


Karr felt Knight approach his trunk and he was tempted to simply run him over. Michael Knight was his enemy, as was the Knight Two Thousand. Memories from so many years ago, out of past filled with emptiness and anger, raced back to meet him and he was fighting them, along with Nicholas's waves of pain. It would be so easy.... and no one could stop him. But he wasn't this Karr anymore; he had a purpose now, and a driver.   
He scanned the Knight Two Thousand, noting the active scanner, the readiness to interfere. Kitt would not be able to stop him in time if he attempted anything, Karr knew. He would be too fast, but acting now, whatever he did, would result in endangering Nicholas MacKenzie.   
The self-preservation program fought his loyalty and finally lost. Nicholas had earned his trust, respect and friendship, and he wouldn't risk it. He was his driver, his partner, and the only human he had ever trusted. None of those he had used in the past, those who had thought they were using him, had ever come close to being trustworthy. As much as he was running under the priority of self-preservation, Nicholas MacKenzie was someone he would not leave alone.   
He felt Knight's hands touch his metal and suppressed a growl.   


Michael touched the warm metal and he thought he felt faint tremors running through the car. Like a nervous animal.... ready to strike if he misbehaved. He inhaled deeply and opened the trunk. The first aid kit was strapped inside and when he opened it, he saw that, like the whole car, it had been custom made for the driver. Most of what was inside did not belong into a regular kit. Michael took the whole box and walked to Nicholas.   
MacKenzie opened his eyes as he approached. The blue was blurry and he was barely conscious anymore. Michael set the first aid kit down and looked for the pain killers.   
"Red label," Nicholas whispered, gritting his teeth as another wave of pain hit. "Hurry!"   
As if to add to the pleading, there was a low growl emitting from the Stealth. Michael froze and stared at the car, then opened the red labeled box of pain killers. He took out two of the small pills and handed them to Nicholas, who swallowed them quickly.   
"Nick, what is going on?" he then asked softly.   
Nicholas winced and then turned to look at him. "Nothing you have to concern yourself with," he managed.   
"The link worked, correct?"   
"Michael, please...." Nicholas was trembling now, but the pain seemed to recede. Whatever those pills were, they hit quite strongly, Michael suspected.   
"Michael?"   
He raised the com link to his lips. "Yes, Pal?"   
"The police and an ambulance are on the way. I also informed Devon."   
"Thanks." He felt something in the back of his mind, as if Kitt wanted to talk to him.... Michael rose and walked over to his partner, feeling him cast a wave of rising anxiety. "What is it, Kitt?"   
"It's active, just like you suspected, Michael," Kitt said and as he peered through the side window, Michael saw a display of wavy lines, fluctuating, spiking. "And I scanned the Stealth." He hesitated. "Michael, his emissions can be compared to mine."   
Michael looked at the other car and felt a chill. "Keep monitoring, Pal," he then said quietly. "Before we start working on this new problem, let's wrap up this case."   
"The ambulance is only a few more minutes away."   
He nodded, closing his eyes. "Thanks."   


Karr knew his driver was currently going through hell, but so was he. The agony of the shot wound was pressing in on him and all shields were crumbling slowly. Since they had first closed the link all those years ago, the shields had been gradually improved. It had been a learning experience and it had been painful for both, mostly for Nicholas when Karr had been nearly destroyed twice. Karr had never experienced this much concentrated pain and it was driving him slowly into the defensive. He tried to pull himself together, not to snap, not to lose control, but it was hard. He wanted nothing more than to run, to speed away from the source of his suffering, but there was also a sense of loyalty, something still new to him.   
White-hot pain raced through his circuits, broadcast through the both cursed and accepted neuro implant. He hated the device that bonded him to a human, but he also cherished it. Nearly a decade of being half human had shown effect on him. Still, these extreme emotions were eroding all control.   
Karr felt the moment the pain killers took effect in the human body and he felt his own systems relax. He was vulnerable like this and it was something he wasn't used to. Nicholas MacKenzie was very much like him when it came to the approach of life: controlled, cold, effective, but as a human he had emotions running all over the scale and even if he appeared in control to the outside, inside was a different matter. And Karr was connected only there.   
Nicholas was leaning against him and his sensors told him that his partner was drifting off, though still fighting it. And the more he fought it, the weaker he got. He scanned for Knight and found him close to the Knight Two Thousand.   
"Let it go," he said in a low voice.   
Nicholas jerked up and blinked violently. "No...." he rasped.   
"I am in control," Karr told him levelly.   
"You will lose...control when I ....slip..."   
"No."   
"Karr....."   
The Stealth exuded silence, but Nick felt a slight pressure in his head as signals flowed.   
"Don't do this," he whispered, begging. "You won't be able to take it. We had it before...."   
Karr was already shutting down all major functions. He knew it would be bad, but if he was prepared, it would be bearable. He kept the flow of calming energies up, something he had discovered by accident. It had been on an assignment where Nicholas had spent days in a row without so much as two hours of sleep and though it didn't influence the AI directly, he had finally told his driver that this was unhealthy. Nick had not listened and Karr had used the only way open to him: direct influence. And it worked, as it was working now. MacKenzie fought it, but in the end there was only one victor.   
Karr shuddered once when the human fell unconscious and he knew Michael Knight had seen it. He was approaching, worry lining his pale face. He hadn't been in shape for all of this either. Karr ignored him now, knowing that he had to further shut down. And he did so. Everything around him blanked out and he lost touch with his perceptors and sensors. It was frightening but necessary, though it called back unhappy and terrifying memories of his shut-down and deaths. Finally all that was open to him was the neuro implant and he encased it in shields, holding it, keeping it safe, keeping Nicholas safe.

* * *

"He is out of danger."   
Devon nodded and closed his eyes, feeling tired.   
"But I'm not so sure about the car," Bonnie added into the silence.   
The three people in the office looked at each other and Michael nodded absent-mindedly. Yes, the car. He had seen it perform at the fight, he had seen it get blasted and not show any further damage..... And he knew it was shielded by the same molecular coat Kitt had. He simply knew it.   
And he knew what ....who... this car was.   
Currently it was secured in the second garage on the premises and under heavy guard. Kitt had reported no more activity from the supposed artificial intelligence inside. Bonnie had done a superficial sweep and found nothing either. It had shut down completely, except maybe for a core program.   
"Devon, I think the first neuro link worked," Michael now said quietly.   
Miles flinched. "Impossible," he then said. "There was no indication of it! And even if it functions now, Karr was destroyed."   
"Yes, and when we thought him destroyed the first time, he came back," Bonnie told him quietly.   
"There was nothing left of him!"   
"Maybe something was left."   
Devon shook his head. "Whatever this car is, it can't be Karr!"   
"What if it is?"   
Devon closed his eyes. The image of the black Stealth popped up in his mind, accompanied by the horror vision of it being Karr. It couldn't be! Karr had been destroyed! He had come back after the first time, just to be destroyed for good. There had been nothing but chips left..... Devon inhaled deeply. It couldn't be! There couldn't have been anything left to reconstruct Karr from!   
"I think we need to talk to Mr. MacKenzie," he finally said.   
Michael nodded, wondering if Nicholas would reveal anything. Knowing him, probably not.

*

The next morning proved him right, in more ways than one. The Stealth was gone, the garage door had been sabotaged, and only a few tire tracks showed that the car had once been here. He had broken out and no one had seen it. At least he had not taken out half the front door and wall as he had gone and it surprised all of them. If this creature was Karr, he had somehow learned subtlety.   
Michael took Kitt and they drove to the hospital, Kitt keeping his scanners open for any sign of the car, but he found none, and when Michael asked for Nicholas' room, the nurse called the doctor in charge.   
"Mr. Knight, I'm Dr. Marcus," the blond man introduced himself and gestured him to follow. Michael did so and they arrived in the doctors' break room. There was a couch, two tables with two chairs each, a coffee machine and a microwave, sitting on a fridge.   
"Mr. MacKenzie disappeared out of his room this night," Marcus told him after he had closed the door after them. "Coffee?"   
Michael shook his head, slightly shocked. "He walked out of here? After you removed a bullet from his shoulder? How?"   
"And after we pumped a unit of plasma into his system. As for the how, we don't know. No one saw him go and the nurse discovered he was gone when she did her morning checks. I expected him to be found near-by but he seems to have left the hospital." He raised an eyebrow while sipping at his coffee. "By all laws of human physique, he should not be able to get anywhere in his condition, but he did. I have to confess he has a rather outstanding metabolism anyway. Anybody else would have been dead at the time he arrived here. Something made him hang on, I believe."   
Michael shook his head in disbelief.   
"And we received payment for his stay and all the costs already," the doctor added dryly.   
That fit. "Thank you, Doc."   
"You wouldn't mind to tell me just who this superman is?"   
Michael smiled briefly. "I wish I knew."

* * *

Nicholas lay on the couch, wishing the fire in his shoulder would stop. He knew he should have stayed in hospital for a week or more, but staying would have meant exposure and vulnerability, and the last he needed was Michael Knight or Devon Miles trying to interrogate him. So he had left. He knew Karr did not approve of it, but he had complied to his wishes anyway. Now he was back home and had called a friend of his, a doctor, and explained he needed a favor again. Mark knew what it meant and he would check regularly on him; and Nick had experience with shot wounds and the recovery afterwards.   
Kerrington had escaped once more, but one day he'd catch him, dead or alive. The episode had gotten him nothing but trouble, he knew. He had been shot, the link was under stress and Knight was suspecting things. Of course, they had caught Zane and his girl-friend, but the big boss had escaped. Too bad, but nothing to lose a night's sleep over. His account wasn't looking too bad anyway, Nicholas thought with a dark smile.   
Something brushed over him and he screwed his eyes shut. It had been three days now and he felt slightly better, but moving was a challenge and he lived off microwave food he rarely managed to eat completely. He could call someone for help, but that would be admitting a weakness. Nicholas couldn't do it. Something inside of him recoiled.   
Blind. Deaf. Without any senses...... Alone.   
He inhaled deeply. Karr was tethering at the edge to a flashback again, set off by his driver's rogue projection of pain and exhaustion, and Nicholas couldn't battle it completely.   
Fear, rage at his creator, slowly cooking madness.   
Death.   
Rebirth.   
A violent death.   
Another reawakening.   
Nick had thought it to be something of the past, a bad memory, but now it had returned with the force of such a forgotten past. It seemed to stretch out black tendrils to draw him in and he had to fight to stay on top of his control, not to lose his mind in the maelstrom of darkness. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply.   
A faint moan made him flinch and he turned, wincing as he watched the same tremors he had felt inside his mind physically race through the black Stealth. He got laboriously to his feet and staggered over to the car, running his hand along the line of the hood, up the windshield to the roof. He projected care and closeness, reassurance and trust. Looking back into their shared past, it was a rare moment of openness. Karr was not the kind of person to accept emotional declarations and he kept himself shielded and distant, though he was never able to pull it through completely. He was as dependent on Nicholas MacKenzie as he was on fuel and regular servicing.   
"It's okay," Nick whispered.   
"No, it isn't," the normally so cold voice rasped.   
He tried to open the door and found it locked. "Open the door, please."   
Karr stubbornly fought him, but he couldn't resist. The neuro implant was blazing with his need for his driver and it was a dizzying effect. Nick nearly fell into the seat, inhaling deeply. He looked at the slightly futuristic dash and discovered a display of shimmering, trembling lights, even the voice box flickering. Karr was under heavy stress, self-induced stress. MacKenzie closed his eyes and felt exhaustion crush in on him.   
"It will be okay...."   
Karr collected his shields and slammed them up, making low grating noises.   
"Karr?"   
"Make....it..... stop," the AI whispered, voice fluctuating.   
Nicholas reached out and touched a perceptor installed in a place no one would ever look for or presume. He rarely touched Karr like this, mainly because both had trouble coping with it and because the implant gave them a closeness neither had really wanted but accepted.   
"I can't, partner," he then said softly, feeling waves upon waves reach him, trying not to battle this invasion of privacy, just like Karr was trying to relax under the soothing touch.   
I can only offer you my presence, my friendship, my....//, he shied away from that thought, but knew Karr picked it up in a way, a mysterious way, the implant.   
After a while the AI calmed down. Nicholas' hand was still resting on the sensor, Karr feeling the warmth penetrate him. It was a frightening and amazing experience and he wished Nicholas would remove his hand, but he couldn't voice the plea.   
And Nicholas didn't care anymore. Exhaustion weighted him down and he drifted off into sleep.

* * *

Another two-and-a-half weeks had passed and there hadn't be any life sign from Nicholas. Michael tried not to worry; he knew Nick was quite capable to take care of himself and had gone through worse. But still.....   
Sitting at the beach, nothing but wilderness around him, Kitt parked not far away, Michael tried to come to terms with the changes that had occurred in the last weeks. Too much he had not thought about was rising up to his conscious mind now and he wondered how to handle it. He was linked to Kitt and both were constantly in contact with each other. There was no blocking Kitt and he knew Kitt was unable to block Michael. They had gone through extremes lately and he hoped the next assignment would be a bit easier on the two of them. Michael didn't know what to do else. They had trained this link and Kitt had confessed that he actually could tell the emotional waves coming his way apart, and currently he was trying to devise a shield so he had some moments alone.   
Michael in turn did the same, but while Kitt simply had to write some kind of protection program, Michael had to try out different methods. He had tried relaxation and then distractions, but this was too new and Michael was not the kind to simply shut out what he couldn't use right now. That was Nicholas' way and he envied him this ability right now. MacKenzie's training made it possible for him to shut out whatever he didn't need and fully concentrate on a job.   
What would happen if Kitt was hurt again?   
More even, what would happen if Michael was hurt or knocked out? Would Kitt react to it or could he stay on top and in control?   
"Beautiful afternoon, isn't it?"   
The voice came the moment a warning echoed through Michael and he jumped to his feet. Nicholas' MacKenzie stood not far away, as usually dressed in jeans and a black shirt, this time wearing an old blazer. He looked a bit thinner than the last time but not like on the verge of dying. Shades hid his eyes.   
"Nick?" Michael breathed.   
Confusion ran through him, mostly Kitt's as to how he managed not to detect the other man.   
"Hello, Michael. How are you?"   
"Fine... But I can't say you look all that healthy. Why did you leave the hospital?"   
"I had my reasons and you know it. I can also take care of myself." A smile flickered over his lips.   
"What do you want?"   
Nicholas shrugged and sat down on the warm sand, the rays of the late afternoon sun playing over the beach. Michael did the same, pulling his knees up to his chest.   
"I wanted to see how you and Kitt are doing."   
"Why?"   
There was a long silence and Nicholas stared at the horizon. Only the sound of the surf disturbed the almost perfect calmness.   
"You have an active chip, right?" Michael then inquired. "It worked, maybe later than expected, and you connected to something.... someone....."   
There was still no reaction and Michael felt Kitt's warning again. He glanced over his shoulder and discovered the black Stealth. It was parked far enough away from Kitt to give them both some security, but the danger emitting from it was almost like a creature with a life of its own. It seemed to watch them, carefully, closely, and though it had no front scanner like Kitt, Michael knew he was scrutinized. Kitt was uncomfortable with the Stealth this close and Michael felt the same.   
"It was Karr you connected to, right?"   
Nicholas was still silent. He scooped up a handful of warm sand, letting it run between his fingers. It trickled back onto the ground. The sun played with the dust and glittery particles, dancing through the veil of sand.   
"Nicholas, if you don't want to talk about it, why are you here? Kitt and I are fine and we will one day handle this .... maybe like you do."   
The ex-agent slowly shook his head. "Not like I did," he said, voice emotionless.   
"Nick....."   
He shook his head again. "I can't tell you what you want to know. It's personal and neither one of you, not even you and Kitt, would understand. In a few years maybe, when you know what this means, but not now."   
"I already understand..." Michael began.   
"No, you don't," MacKenzie stopped him. "You know you have a link to a machine and you know you can receive Kitt's emotions, as well as the other way around. It took me nearly too long to understand it all myself and it almost got me killed. I helped you because I don't want this to happen again. You and Kitt are different; Kitt is very much different."   
Than who? Michael asked silently.   
"You have to train and each and every assignment will give you more experience and more problems to deal with," Nicholas continued. "I can offer you only one more piece of help and you will find it in your mail box."   
With that he rose and dusted off his jeans, ready to leave. Michael jumped to his feet.   
"What are you going to do now?" he asked.   
Nicholas' smiled humorlessly. "My job."   
He started to walk toward the Stealth. Michael ran to catch up with him. "Nick, sending files is no help! And you know it! At least tell me where to reach you... just in case!"   
MacKenzie shook his head. "This isn't how it works, Michael. I'll check on you some time in the future and trying to find me is futile. We will be in touch."   
"But on your terms."   
"Always on my terms."   
They had arrived at the car and Michael stopped a few feet away from it. It radiated extreme danger – which might be just his imagination running amok, but if this thing was Karr... Michael didn't want to be any closer than necessary.   
Nicholas opened the door and got inside. He only nodded at Michael and then eased the car off the beach and up the trodden path to the street.   
"Michael?"   
He turned and discovered Kitt rolling toward him. "Yes, Pal?"   
"I checked your mail box. There is a large, encrypted file sitting in the in-box. Do you want me to open it?"   
He shook his head. "Not now."   
The Stealth had disappeared between the trees and Michael sighed. Finally he turned to his partner.   
"Well, what do you think of a nice cruise along the beach?"   
Kitt simply opened the door as an invitation and agreement. Michael grinned and got in, ignoring the mail for now. There would be time for it later, much later, when they were back at the mansion and back in business. For now, all he wanted to do was have fun and enjoy his friendship with Kitt.

* * *

It was a dreary day, the sky dominated by heavy clouds, a slow drizzle falling onto the ground. Because of the weather the cemetery was almost empty. A lone figure walked to one of the countless graves, stopping in front of the white-washed stone, eyes fixed on the writing. He remembered the funeral; he had been there without anyone noticing it. Black dressed mourners, reporters, journalists, camera crews, everything. Wilton Knight's death had been a media event, the passing of a billionaire, a 'pioneer in his field', a 'great man whose loss cannot be captured in words'. He snorted. Only a few months later no one had even asked about him anymore. Knight would have loved it, MacKenzie knew.   
Wilton Knight had died of cancer, a painful death, one only postponed by his almost fervent drive to see the Knight Two Thousand completed, to see the team. Nick knew that it had been a stab into the old man's heart that the first team had not worked and that it had set him back, but maybe it was better this way. Kitt was the result of the failure and it was a beautiful result.   
"Did you know what you were doing?" he now asked the silent grave.   
Had Knight known what the implanted chip would do? Probably not. He had dreamed and left reality to those who took part in his dream. A millionaire with a dream. He had had the money to burn and he had founded FLAG, had given birth to a new team of crimefighters.... had changed Nicholas MacKenzie forever. Wilton Knight had been the only man who had ever known all about him, his childhood, his teenage years, his past and probably even the future.   
"Did you know it had worked the first time?" he whispered.   
MacKenzie had no answer to this. In the last years he had spent time and again setting himself back to those moments with Karr, aware of Knight watching him, every move, every twitch. Had he seen the changes? He couldn't have. Never. The implant had activated when they had shut down Karr and Nicholas had no longer been under surveillance then. He had watched Karr 'die' and left.   
Closing his jacket tightly he turned and walked back to the parking spot. The Stealth was one of the few vehicles parked there and it stood out slightly, mainly because it was the only sports car. Nicholas climbed and briefly closed his eyes, letting the ripple of energy from the link course through him.   
"You are fatigued," Karr then said flatly.   
He cracked his eyes open again. "One more reason to find the next coffee shop."   
"What are the others?"   
"I'm chilled." The vital signs monitor lit up. "Not a peep about my condition, okay?" MacKenzie snapped and started the engine.   
"I wasn't about to," came the smooth, slightly sarcastic reply. "I am not your caretaker."   
He snorted and they left the cemetery. Nicholas knew he had lost weight through the injury and it would a few more days until he was back in shape enough to start some exercising. He didn't need the AI to point it out to him.   
"Nicholas?" Karr asked after some time.   
Nick was surprised. Karr rarely began a conversation. "Yes?"   
"Why did you give them the file?"   
He sighed. "I told you before: he needs help."   
"You felt inclined to help."   
Nicholas' lips became a thin line. "In a way," he finally confessed.   
"Because of the pain?" Karr asked neutrally.   
He inhaled deeply, suppressing dark memories. "Yes, maybe."   
"I understand." With that he lapsed into his usual silence, but Nicholas felt his emotions. He took another deep breath.   
They disappeared into the traffic.

* * *

Michael sat in front of the computer screen, silently reading the file MacKenzie had given him. It was a big file, with a lot of chapters, sometimes notes with a personal touch, sometimes clinical observations as if he was watching an experiment.

'The most primal urge in a living being is the killer instinct. Life feeds on death, with every creature being either predator or prey. Nature is a violent area, a testing ground for life, in which all must kill or be killed. This killer instinct serves the purpose to preserve self, status, territory, possessions and more. Many forms of life start out as prey but become predators in order to survive. Aggression is sometimes the key factor, especially in an intelligent society, a developed society. Those creatures prey on each other.   
Knight Industries created life in labs, robotic life, programmed and still self-aware. This life is intelligent, teaching itself, learning, growing. And it grew out of control. It grew from prey into predator.'

Michael shook his head. Somehow this was only too true. He remembered how Kitt had started out. A highly intelligent being with an almost child-like naiveté and behavior, and his exposure to humans had changed him. Had the same happened to Karr? All files on him were classified and those he had been able to look into only described his development from a technical point of view, not from a personal. Karr had been like Kitt and he still was like Kitt, with only a few basic differences: he would preserve his own life before anything else.   
Nicholas went on to describe the neuro implant, what it did and what it changed. Michael felt sick when he got to the chapter about the activation. This was totally different from what he had experienced with Kitt. Kitt was a gentle being, programmed not to harm other life and protect his driver. Karr was totally different. But the activation was almost the same. It had been physical stress and trauma: Karr had been deactivated.   
"Oh, God," Michael moaned and shook his head. "They deactivated Karr and it reflected back on Nick." He sat back and rubbed his forehead.   
"I can't imagine what it means," Kitt said softly. "For both of them."   
He was parked behind Michael, his scanner running back and forth, watching Michael while he also gently probed the implant. It was getting better, he knew. They had worked on it and though Kitt regularly shied away from emotional surges, he knew he was no longer freaked out; at least freaked out enough to run. He knew Michael was feeling guilty whenever something got through and resulted in an energy surge inside his CPU and the apology came right away.   
Now Michael turned and looked at him with surprise written over his features. "Both?"   
"Yes, Michael, both, because it connected two minds who are used to being alone." Kitt was silent for a while. "Even I have to confess that being alone was something I treasured."   
Michael winced and walked over to his partner. "Kitt...." he started, guilt rising inside him again. He touched the dark frame of the car, gently rubbing it.   
"No, Michael, it's okay. And it was neither fault. Mr. Wilton Knight had the idea and he pursued it. I think he never realized how far it might go."   
Michael kept up his soothing strokes. "Yeah, I know. If I had known what he had done..... I don't know what I had decided. I think I'd never have walked into that garage or taken on the job." He stopped, embarrassment rising inside of him. "Sorry," he whispered, closing his eyes, letting his head sink onto the roof.   
"You don't have to apologize," Kitt said gently and there was the familiar warm tingle in the back of his neck. "You couldn't have known and I never accessed the file. I knew it, but I never remembered it, so to speak."   
"Yes." His voice was almost too low to be heard, but Kitt heard him nevertheless. "But Nicholas knew," he said after some time, voice muffled. "And he accepted it. He didn't know what was going to happen either and now he is stuck with a cold and emotionless mind. He didn't have the luck I had," he added.   
Kitt sent a wave of fondness and he smiled.   
"Don't you think his influence might have changed Karr?" his partner then asked.   
Michael raised his head, frowning. "Maybe."   
"You influenced me, Michael. I was never to develop like this." Michael blinked in surprise. "I am not deaf," Kitt added dryly. "I overheard Devon talking. I was there if you remember."   
Michael winced again. Yes, he remembered that time right after his first case when Devon had remarked that Kitt was talking back to him and that Michael was influencing the AI. Michael had seen it as a development, Devon as a fault. But this so-called 'fault' was what had made Kitt what he was today: an individual with very individual responses.   
"Sorry," he muttered again, letting his hand run in a pattern over the roof.   
"Michael, nothing of this is your fault!" Kitt repeated.   
Michael smiled slightly. "I still feel like apologizing." The door clicked open and he got the hint and climbed into the car. "I wish we had a way to talk to Nicholas. I would appreciate his help with it and I think he might need our help now and then as well."   
"Nicholas is no the man to accept it."   
"I know." He sighed and leaned back into the seat.   
"But at least he was willing to share what he knows," Kitt added thoughtfully.   
The file popped up on the screen and Michael glanced at it. There was so much in there, so much that told him what Nicholas had gone through and what he didn't want Michael and Kitt to experience, it was almost his friend's life. He had made mistakes and learned, and so had Karr. This partnership, one enhanced through a neuro implant, was a give and take. Both had to sacrifice parts of themselves to gain more. And Karr was not exactly the kind of personality to sacrifice himself. Michael had read between the lines, had found there were snippets missing, and they most likely contained the more personal and painful experiences.   
"Yes, he is," he now muttered. "And we have to make the best of it."   
He looked at the almost sterile garage walls. He needed to get out of here.   
"Kitt?"   
The AI had already started the engine. Michael grinned.   
"Stop reading my thoughts."   
"I didn't. And you know I couldn't do it anyway!" Kitt protested, mock-affronted.   
Michael chuckled. He felt like maybe jogging a bit, taking it easy since he was still not back in shape, relaxing in the sun and generally enjoying himself. As he drove out of the garage he discovered Bonnie walking out of the trailer of the Semi, dressed as most of the time in her white work-overall. A thought struck him and he stopped.   
"Bonnie!" He waved.   
She stopped and shot him a questioning look. "What is it?"   
"Care for a bit of fun and relaxation at the beach? I'd even invite you for a chocolate sundae." He grinned irrepressibly.   
Bonnie grimaced theatrically, but she got into Kitt. The Passive Laser Restraint System secured her and the Knight Two Thousand left the FLAG premises.   



End file.
